


Mother’s Day

by TheStrangeSeaWolf



Series: The Tinkerer [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (A friend informed me that my writing is whouffaldi although I didn't think so), Abandoned Child, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Finding Family, Mother's Day, Mother-Son Relationship, POV Clara Oswin Oswald, POV Twelfth Doctor, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scotland, Telepathic Bond, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-01-16 09:50:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 28,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21269084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrangeSeaWolf/pseuds/TheStrangeSeaWolf
Summary: Clara still misses her mother sometimes. But what about the Doctor's parents? Clara thinks they should find out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a thought I have been mulling over for some time. Thought I'd just start and see where it takes me.

Sitting on the edge of her bed Clara carefully turned the pages of her copy of “101 Places to See”.

“Clara?”

A gentle knock on her door. It had taken her some time to teach the Doctor, but he finally respected her privacy, not bursting into her room uninvited.

“Come on in.”

He paced into the room, all excited.

“It’s the Great Erkmat 7 Cake Bake Off. It’s the 10th jubilee with the biggest baker’s exhibition ever, taking place all over the planet. How does that sound? What do you say?”

He asked, wide eyed, grinning toothily with childlike enthusiasm. She couldn’t help but smile at him. He looked closer and his face fell.

“Oh no, you are doing that thing again – that thing with your face where your mouth is happy, but your eyes are sad. You are malfunctioning again. Why are you malfunctioning?”

To his credit, he really tried to express his concern, she thought. She had learned to read what he really wanted to say into the gibberish his mouth spit out.

“Ah, nothing, really. It’s just…”

She doubted he would really understand. She looked at him and he tilted his head sideways, knotting his eyebrows, giving her a scrutinizing stare.

“You are not ill, are you?”

He flipped his sunglasses on to sonic her.

“No, your body temperature is ridiculously high, but then again, that’s normal for humans. There are no signs of an infection. I would, however, not longer postpone that visit to Gh’uuum Ph’arkh to let a dentist take care of that upper right wisdom tooth.”

She groaned. She really appreciated that the Doctor tried to be “a good man” like he put it and take care of her human needs, but his obsession with her health and wellbeing started getting on her nerves. Her mind was made up, she was NOT going to get that wisdom tooth extracted. It didn’t hurt. Well, honestly, it didn’t hurt most of the time. Okay, it didn’t hurt all the time. Better to change subject.

“Well, it’s my mother’s birthday and I still miss her a lot.” She admitted.

He looked at her confused. It was visible that this was the kind of emotional statement he still had problems to adjust to. But he was an eager student. So, he sat beside her on the bed and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She had told him that whenever she made an emotional statement with signs of sadness, a hug was seldom wrong, and it was not very likely that she would slap him. She also warned him that this might not apply to all human beings.

She leaned into him and let her head rest against his shoulder. She knew that he might not be able to grasp what she felt, but that he was eager to comfort her and make her feel better.

A thought crossed her mind. The Doctor had never mentioned his parents. She wondered if he missed them and how they were like. Then she thought that it was perhaps a painful memory as he hadn’t found Gallifrey so far and thus couldn’t just go there to meet them. But she was really, really, curious and so the curiosity got the better of her.

“Doctor, do you ever miss your parents?”

He sighed and slowly replied.

“I don’t have parents.”

“Nonsense, Doctor. Everybody has parents.” Then a thought crossed her mind. “Or are timelords planted and grown in pots or something along these lines?”

He chuckled slightly at her thought.

“No, timelords are not potted and later planted like tomatoes.”

He turned serious again.

“No, it’s simply that my parents didn’t want to have me. I grew up in an asylum.”

He stated it matter-of-factly, but she sensed the deep sadness that lay in these words. She wrapped her arm around his waist, and they sat in silence for a moment until she had thought about this revelation.

“How do you know they didn’t want to have you?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” He stared at her surprised. “I told you I grew up in an asylum.”

“Doctor, there are quite a few reasons why children end up in asylums or foster homes. Mothers might not be able to provide proper care for their child, for example because they are ill or live in a problematic family setting or an abusive relationship. They might decide it’s better for their child to grow up in a safer place. They might decide that it has better chances in life. Sometimes authorities might take children from their parents for good or bad reasons. Has this never occurred to you?”

He shook his head confused.

“Never. Only…”

He turned his head to look at her.

“What?”

“There was one of the carers… She was different than the others… Now I think, perhaps, she was an echo of you…”

Clara gulped. The concept of her echoes was something that still confused her. And she felt sorry for them as most had to die a cruel death to fulfill their purpose of saving the Doctor.

“She was different. She always told me that it didn’t matter that I didn’t want to play soldier like the other boys. That I didn’t need to become an officer or a politician. That I could become a doctor or a vet or a nurse or whatever I wanted to be. And one day…” He reached into the pocket of his coat “…she told me that she was sure that my mom loved me very much and gave me this picture.”

The photo was aged, crumpled and dog-eared. It showed a brown-haired woman in a plain dress, roughly the age of Clara with her hands on her hips, smiling self-confident at the camera.

“She’s beautiful. And she looks very intelligent. And brave.”

He nodded.

“Have you ever tried to find her?”

“No. Too many paradoxes. And, as I said, she didn’t want to have me.”

“But the woman who cared for you didn’t think so. Maybe she knew her? Did you ever think of that?”

He shrugged.

“I can’t go back and look what happened when I was born and why she abandoned me. I could accidentally crash her with the TARDIS and I’m never born, so we can’t have this conversation and I can’t go back to that point in time to crash her…”

“Yes, yes, yes, okay, not that ‘fixed point in time’ and ‘bootstrap paradox’ speech again, Doctor. I got it.”

She said, taking turns in looking at her mother’s beloved book and the photo of the Doctor’s mother.

She felt so sorry that her companion had to grow up without the love and care of a mother. Her mother had died early, but the love she had passed on still carried her today. Just knowing that her mom had loved her with all her heart was something like a foundation she could cling to in rough times.

She mulled a thought over in her mind. She was really, really interested what kind of person the Doctor’s mother was. She didn’t look like an irresponsible, egoistic woman that would abandon her child. And she didn’t look like someone who would run away from difficulties. Whatever made her abandon the Doctor, she was sure it was the only option she saw back then.

Then she had a thought.

“Your family are timelords?”

“To the best of my knowledge as someone who doesn’t know his family tree, I’d say yes. I grew up on Gallifrey, I look like a Gallifreyan, I can calculate faster than other species, I can navigate in space and time and I regenerate, so I’d say these are strong evidences. I’d say there is an 86.97% chance that my parents are timelords. Yes.”

She nodded.

“So, it’s very likely that your mother is still alive. She might have regenerated, but I’d say there is a certain likeliness that she is still alive. We could visit her.”

She looked him in the eyes. She saw that his fears and uncertainties battled with his natural curiosity.

“It would also be a chance to finally find Gallifrey – if she lives on Gallifrey, that is. You just have to use the telepathic interface and turn the safeguards off – no need to know the coordinates, that way.”

He sighed.

“You are impossible. And too intelligent for your own good. You just know how to push my buttons, Clara Oswald!”

She beamed.

“We will try it, then?”

“As you wish, boss!”

He waved his hands in defeat, and she grabbed his hand as they started for the console room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the idea of growing tiny Doctors in pots, you will most definitely like the [Tiny Twelve AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5888701/chapters/13572376) by [FernDavant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FernDavant/pseuds/FernDavant).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a bit carried away by the story, that's why we already have a second chapter. Hope you enjoy.  
I plan to interchange between POV Clara and Twelfth Doctor like I did in the ["Darkness and Light"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1489118) series, so I can explore different views and inner feelings. Not sure I will do it as strictly as I did in the series, though.

He wasn’t convinced that it was a good idea. Not at all. He tried to avoid thinking back on his childhood as much as possible. He had accepted that his parents had abandoned him hundreds of years ago. He didn’t want to stir up the pain he had buried deep inside.

But Clara was eager to find out. And if his Clara wanted something, he found it hard to argue against her. If it made her happy, he was willing to do a lot of things that he usually deemed stupid or boring.

So off they were to the console room. He turned off the safeguards and the navigation. He stood at the telepathic interface and looked at Clara questioning.

“How did you do it? Anything specific I should know?”

“Don’t tell me you never tried it yourself?”

“Ahem, honestly, it was a new device the TARDIS and I developed after I regenerated, and you were the first to test it. And the only one who used it up to now.”

“So, you were using me as a guinea pig when you wanted to find out about that stupid concept of a creature that excelled at hiding? You didn’t even know if it worked and if it was safe to use for a human?”

She scowled at him. She sounded and looked cross.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It is especially designed so that pudding brains can fly the TARDIS.”

Now she looked as if she was going to throw something at him. He needed to do something about that. He mentally flipped through his concepts of appeasing her.

“You always like to test out new things, I thought you’d liked it.” He said as innocently as possible, settling for what he thought was his most winning smile. She raised her eyebrow at him, but it seemed her anger diminished.

“Okay, okay, Doctor, just stop doing that ‘Teen Wolf meets Dracula’ impression, okay?”

He wasn’t sure what she meant to say with these words, but at least he had averted an immediate attack. He still stood a little unsure in front of the device he made. Okay, technically, the TARDIS had made the hardware of the human-machine-interface. And coded most of the software. All of the software, really. But he had sure helped with the wiring and soldering.

“Just put your hands in, Doctor. It might tickle a little.”

Clara came close to him, wrapped herself around him from behind and took his wrists to gently guide his hands into the interface. At first, he froze, like he always did when a touch came unexpected, but then he relaxed. He liked feeling Clara so close. Of course, he would never admit that.

The inside of the interface felt funny. A little bit like a rubber duck, but warm and a bit sticky. Clara was right, it tickled at his fingertips. Probably it established the mental connection there.

“Now think about your mother. Ask ‘Where is she now? What does she do?’ Just focus on those questions.”

He closed his eyes and thought about the woman in the picture. He wondered where his mother was. It worked. The rotors started spinning and grinding. After a short trip the TARDIS landed. He turned around to face Clara who was smiling up at him.

“Seems the TARDIS thinks she found her!” She exclaimed.

He didn’t feel excited. In fact, he was scared. He would meet his mother. And he would probably set foot on Gallifrey again. He was not sure this had been a good idea. And he wasn’t too sure he wanted to meet his mother anyway.

Clara seemed to sense his feelings.

“Listen, maybe it’s not good if you go out first. We don’t know how well the navigation went and you don’t want to accidentally run into yourself in case something went wrong. Right? How about I go outside first and take a look if it’s safe?”

“But what if it is dangerous outside? What if we accidentally landed in the time war? What if the timelords kidnap you? I can’t risk you getting killed or captured.”

“Don’t you trust the TARDIS that she found a save place for landing anymore? It’s not like we are doing this the first time, right?”

He gave in. He grabbed her hands and squeezed them.

“Okay then – but just… just… promise me to be careful, okay?”

“Will do!”

And with these words she sneaked through the TARDIS door. But she didn’t go any further. He was tense with anticipation.

“Ahem, Doctor, didn’t you say something about a rather dry planet with red grass, golden fields and an orange sky?”

“Yes?”

“Hmm, well, actually I do have more of green grass, rough cliffs and grey sky. And it’s raining.”

He scooted to the door to look over her shoulder. Outside was a rough, yet beautiful landscape. The TARDIS stood on a green meadow near a path leading up to a small house standing on a cliff, looking out over a small bay and to an ocean. Beneath the house, the waves were crashing to the rocks.

“If you weren’t thinking about a holiday commercial and the TARDIS is not completely confused, there is more Scottish to you than just the accent, Doctor.” Clara smirked.

His knees were trembling, and he grabbed a hold on the door frame. No, no, no, no, no. Something must have gone wrong. This simply couldn’t be.

“Are you alright, Doctor?”

“Yes, fine, just a bit dizzy, probably just the unfamiliar way of navigating.”

The way she looked at him he sensed she didn’t believe a single word.

“You are white as a sheet, Doctor. Come on, let’s sit down.”

The small human reached around his waist and for the moment he was thankful for the support and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Together they went to a chair near the console. He let himself slump on it and let his head sink into his hands. Not only that he still hadn’t found Gallifrey. If this was Earth, then there was a possibility that the prophecy… he didn’t dare to think about it.

“Doctor?”

He looked up and saw that Clara was kneeling in front of him, softly touching his knee.

“Don’t worry, I’m alright.”

“You don’t look alright. Have you checked where we landed?”

He shook his head. She stood up and went to the monitor.

“As it looks, we really are on Earth. On a small island somewhere between Orkney and the Shetland Islands. For the timeframe… 1901, I’d say, although the TARDIS is always a bit funny with translating years for humans.”

This didn’t make any sense. He stood up to check the monitor himself.

“Okay, Doctor, we have no idea why we have landed here. Thinking back on the weird thing with Orson Pink and the… uhm… doesn’t matter, I think the navigation with the telepathic interface is just a bit… I don’t know how to say it… a bit…”

“Timey-wimey?” he offered.

“Exactly! Timey-wimey. This could be where your mom is. Or a previous version. Or an alternate version. We got to find out.”

“Not sure this is a good idea.”

“Ah, since when are you so anxious?”

He felt anger welling up.

“Since I could probably erase myself from existence? I once brought someone back to the time her father died, and she tried to save him, and this didn’t end well. I’m not in the mood for fighting reapers – if I can fight them at all, because I might not be there because someone very, very nosey convinced me I should come here. Thank you very much!”

The last sentence he shouted, and he realized that he had clenched his fists. He immediately regretted it as he saw Clara backing away from him, fear in her eyes. She shouldn’t be afraid of him. He’d never hurt her, and it hurt him that she thought he would.

“Sorry,... I... I would never...” he mumbled.

She looked at him with her big, thoughtful, brown eyes and to his great relief, she relaxed a little.

“It’s okay, I guess. I understand why you are uncomfortable with the whole situation. But since we are here, don’t you think I should go and find out who lives in that house? Just to check if the TARDIS is right? Aren’t you curious at all?”

Was he curious? Yes, of course. But there was something more than paradoxes and timelines that upset him. Even more than the prophecy, because prophecies were always a bit unspecific, weren’t they? But his mother had not wanted him. She had given him into the care of the asylum. All the things they did to him there. The so-called “carers” in the asylum. All those painful memories had been safely stored away and sealed somewhere deep down in his soul for centuries. This trip had brought them to the surface once again.

If this was the place his mother lived. If he was going to meet her and find out why she hadn't wanted to keep him. If he was going to meet her and look her in the eyes…

He was sure he would never be able to forgive her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have had too much time over the weekend and I'm rather sure I can't keep up this pace, but here comes the next chapter. Enjoy!

Scotland around 1900, then. She settled for a fine woolen dress with a velvet vest that was perhaps a bit too stylish for the countryside, but she didn’t care. This whole situation was already paradox enough, so why not wear something that made her feel comfortable and pretty? She completed it with a warm, long coat and a felt tam. She didn’t care for historical accuracy; she didn’t want to get soaked before she reached the small house.

When she left the TARDIS, it had stopped raining and the sun had come out. The bay and the cliffs looked stunning in the warm golden light. She made her way uphill to the small white house. As she came closer, a man stepped out of the house. He was tall and skinny, wearing a tweed jacket, a flat cap, a scarf and wellingtons. He waited for her approaching, arms akimbo.

When she finally stood face to face, she realized two things: the man was wearing a blue bowtie, which seemed completely out of place; and she didn’t have a plan what she wanted to say.

“Hi, nice day, isn’t it?”

Oh, great, Oswald, is this the best start for a conversation you could think of when you appear out of nowhere on a seemingly one house island?

The man knitted his brows. He had wild ginger hair and a rather young face with impressive sideburns, bushy eyebrows and a broad chin. But what impressed her most were his green eyes. When she looked into them, she saw that they were ancient. Same as with the Doctor’s eyes she could see the time that had passed for him in them. Centuries. Many centuries.

“Uh, you probably wonder why I’m here and how I got here?” She started.

The man still didn’t say a word and eyed her coolly. Then he pointed behind her, towards the TARDIS.

“Yes. Hi, I’m Jane Smith and I come here to study a special species of wild birds that are unique to this island.”

She settled for her most winning smile. The man stared at her, disapprovingly. Then he finally spoke.

“Listen, spare me your lies and shenanigans. You came here in a TARDIS and this means you are a Time Lady. You are probably sent over from the High Council on Gallifrey – or whatever stupid administrative body is in charge now – to arrest me, kill me or do whatever with me. I’m willing to obey and I won’t make a fuss. But my wife is dying. I don’t expect you to understand. And I know that you lot don’t have any concept of compassion or mercy. But as a fellow student who went through the academy, I beg you on the grounds of our common experiences that you grant me the time to say goodbye to my wife and stay by her side until the end. We are not talking weeks or months here. It is a matter of maybe a few days. I will follow you without any resistance afterwards. I give you my word as a Time Lord on it.”

She was taken aback. She had not really expected that he would buy her story. But that this man actually thought that she was a Time Lady sent out from Gallifrey to arrest him was a bit thick. Did she really look like some of that vain idiots with their ridiculous collars? She put her hands on her hips and scowled at the man who scowled back at her.

Then she thought that the man just told her his wife was dying and she immediately felt sorry for him. Her expression softened.

“I’m no Time Lady and for what it’s worth I have no sympathy whatsoever for the High Council. I am not here to arrest you.”

The man relaxed a bit but still looked at her with suspicion. She decided to settle for the truth.

“Let’s try again. Hi, my name is Clara Oswald and I’m here in search of the mother of a friend of mine and the TARDIS thinks I can find her here.”

“Clara Oswald! _THE_ Clara Oswald?” The man let out a surprised gasp.

“You know the name?” Now she was surprised.

“Who in the universe wouldn’t have heard your name?” He said and his green eyes were wide with amazement. “Clara Oswald: The Guardian Angel of the Doctor. The woman who tames the Oncoming Storm. The brave companion of the Doctor, his moral compass and guiding light.”

Clara blushed and looked down to her feet. It nearly seemed like the man was about to bow before her. She couldn’t believe she was that famous. She was really, really confused. 

“Sorry, I forgot to introduce me. I am The Tinkerer.” They shook hands.

“Now, can I invite you inside? Seems we get a little drizzle again.”

He gestured to the door as heavy raindrops started to fall.

“I’d be delighted,” she answered, still confused.

The house was bigger on the inside – of course it was, she had expected that much. But she was surprised to find a console room in the middle of it.

“It’s a TARDIS, too!” She exclaimed.

“Yes,” the Tinkerer said with pride. “We haven’t done much travelling the last few years but she’s the best ship in the whole universe.”

The TARDIS hummed her delight. The Tinkerer gestured to enter a room to the right. It looked like a typical Scottish tearoom with a round table and comfortable chairs. A window presented an outstanding view over the whole bay.

“Stay here while I make us some tea and see how my wife is doing.”

After a while he came back with a teapot. He set it on a teapot warmer, then brought two cups and some scones. Pouring the tea, he said:

“My wife is sound asleep, otherwise I would have introduced you. She would be all excited to meet you.”

She wondered if it was impolite to ask about his wife. On the other hand, it would also be impolite not to ask, as he had already revealed she was dying.

“I’m so sorry to hear she is not well. What happened?”

He looked at her with sad eyes.

“Oh, she’s well over eighty. She’s human and her… her time has come.” He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Sorry. I always knew it would end sometime. It’s the price you have to pay as a Time Lord, but still, when it comes…”

He fell silent, ashamed of the tears he couldn’t hold back. It touched her to see the pain of this man. She knew it all too well. She reached out and touched his hand in a comforting and understanding gesture. He shortly shrugged away before he relaxed into the touch. They sat in silence for a while. Finally, he said:

“But please, tell me again why you are here.”

“As I told you, there is this friend of mine. He never met his real mother. I try to find her and the TARDIS – our TARDIS – thinks she’s here.”

“Maybe your TARDIS made a mistake. We are the only people on this island, and we don’t have any children.” He shrugged.

She looked at him. Was he right and the navigation went wrong? Then, why had the TARDIS landed here – there must be a connection to the Doctor’s mother. Was he lying? Didn’t he trust her? Or was there another explanation?

“Might well be… We flew with the telepathic interface and this is not always strictly reliable. So, we might have ended up in the wrong timeline or some faintly related timeline.”

“Telepathic interface? What will they come up next with? Central locking mechanism?” He burst.

“Uh, we already have something like that – she opens the door when you snap your fingers. But only if she is in a good mood. And only if she likes you.”

She rolled her eyes, and both shared a genuine smile. TARDISes!

“And from the look of your TARDIS I can tell they never fixed the bug in the chameleon circuit, have they?”

She shook her head.

“At least not for the model I am with. But wait a minute, yours looks quite adequate for a house in Scotland?”

“You’re having me?” He sighed. “I tried for a lighthouse as long as I can think. I finally gave up when it turned to one of those Santorini houses, as it isn’t too obvious.”

“It’s close enough, I didn’t notice the anachronism.” She turned serious again.

“Speaking of anachronisms… I have a picture of my friend’s mother in the TARDIS. Maybe when I show it to you and your wife you might recognize her? It’s a small chance but still worth a try?”

She eyed him closely. There were no signs of reluctancy when he answered:

“Sure, it’s worth a shot.”

She left the house. It was pouring again, and she tugged the tam deep into her face as she started downhill towards the TARDIS. When she came closer, she heard a scream.

It was the Doctor screaming.

Her blood ran cold.

She started running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and feedback, as always, much appreciated! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Left you hanging there for a bit. But here we go. :)

Everything was dark.

There was no window and no light.

Just darkness.

And no noise.

He couldn’t stretch out his legs.

He couldn’t stand upright.

The room was too small.

He couldn’t say how much time has passed since they brought him here.

There was no break.

No one came looking for him.

No one brought him food.

They hadn’t said how long he had to stay here.

When he stretched out his hands, he could feel the walls left and right.

They were cushioned, so any noise was muted.

He let his fingers run to the corners between the walls and the ceiling, but there was no way to bring his fingers between the cushioning and the walls to tear it down.

He started to retreat his legs to kick his feet against the wall before them. This was where the door was located. Nothing gave way and the sound was muffled by the cushioning.

There was nothing he could do.

He needed to do something to stay sane.

He screamed.

The walls muted the scream and he sensed it couldn’t be heard on the outside – same as he couldn’t hear what was happening outside.

Still, the screaming had something comforting to it. At least he could hear something, even if it was just his own scream. It told him he was still alive.

So, he screamed.

He woke up from his own screaming. He must have dozed off, sitting on the chair in the console room. He looked around. He was alone. Alone in his TARDIS. Clara was not there.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and realized his hands were trembling. He concentrated to get them under control.

He would never admit it, but he hated to be alone. It was such a comfort to have Clara around him more often since Christmas. Just knowing that she was somewhere in the TARDIS made everything better. If he felt alone, he could just go and look what she was doing. When she was asleep in her room he could stand before her door and listen to the soft noises she made while sleeping.

Now he was alone with himself and the memories of his childhood in the asylum. He really didn’t want to think about it but since they had started this journey, the memories came pushing back in. The most vivid had been this nightmare. It had seemed so real.

Suddenly the TARDIS doors pushed open and he jumped to defend himself before he realized it was Clara.

“Doctor?”

She had jumped into the TARDIS in full attack mode and froze when she saw him.

“Clara?”

“Are you alright? I heard you screaming. I thought you were in danger.”

She walked towards him until she stood before him, looking up. She looked worried. She shouldn’t worry about him. It wasn’t her fault that this trip brought bad memories about.

“Everything is okay. Stop worrying, Clara.”

“You don’t look okay. What was the scream about?”

“I might have been fallen asleep.”

“You had a nightmare?”

He nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or just show me?”

She stretched out her arms. He really could use some of her comforting hugs. But he didn’t want to show her the terrible things that happened in the asylum. He was still adjusting to the fact that she was able to bond telepathically with him. And he was still in the process of accepting he really liked being touched – as long as it was Clara who touched him.

“I don’t want to show it to you.” He said, uncertain how to express what he wanted.

“That’s alright, Doctor. You can close off the memories, you know. And I can still give you a hug, if you like to.”

She made a small step towards him. He hesitantly opened his arms and she wrapped her arms around him. He still didn’t understand why he felt better the very instant he felt her warm, soft body close to him and her hands on his back. It was not very logical. Perhaps he was malfunctioning. He let himself melt into her embrace anyway and rested his head against hers.

_This trip scares me._

_I can feel it, sorry for suggesting it._

_It’s alright, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know it... I guess you treat abandoned children different on Earth than on Gallifrey._

_It was a nightmare about your childhood?_

_Yes. About the asylum._

_Whatever happened there, it wasn’t your fault. Asylums are there to care for children in need. Whatever they did that still gives you nightmares after so many years was very, very wrong. I hope you know that._

_I guess so._

_They had the duty of care for you. You were small and you didn’t have parents to look after you. They didn’t take good care of you and it makes me angry that they didn’t._

_Don’t be. It doesn’t change a thing._

_I know. _

They stood in silence for some time until he couldn’t stand the closeness any longer and broke the hug. He straightened his shoulders and changed the subject.

“How was it going? Who lives in the house?”

Clara gave him a short update on what had happened.

“The curse of the Time Lords – losing people.”

He said with a sad smile, looking down at his impossible girl. One day she would die on him, just as the Tinkerer’s wife was dying now. He was sure he couldn’t go on without her.

“I know.”

She looked up at him and he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.

“What do you think? Should I show them the picture?”

She asked him. The question surprised him.

“Is this even a question?”

“Sure, it is, Doctor. I can see that this adventure stirs up some memories that are more painful than I had imagined. I don’t want to hurt you any further.”

She looked at him with her wonderful brown eyes, worried and searching. As unbelievable as it was, she cared for him. He reached out to stroke her cheek.

He considered the options at hand.

“I think now we started it; it is better to investigate the case further. I’m still wondering what brought us here and…,” he suddenly had a tight feeling in his throat and gulped “…the nightmares of my childhood will always haunt me, no matter if we stop now or continue.”

He reached into his pocket and drew the picture out. The woman who was supposed to be his mother looked at him. He had studied this picture countless times and always wondered who she was and why she did it. Perhaps now those questions could be answered. Maybe it would help him to find the peace of mind he craved.

“I’m sure it will help.” Clara said and he looked at her, startled. They didn’t touch. How could she reply not to his statement but his thoughts?

She reached up to him and cupped his cheek.

“It’s not some trick, Doctor. Sometimes I don’t need a telepathic bond. I can read your mind because I can read what you are thinking by looking at your face.”

She really was impossible. He gave her a warm smile.

“Now, shall we go?”

“I’m not sure if it is a good idea you are joining me, Doctor. If these people are somehow related to you, we should be very, very careful. Grandfather paradox and all the other things you can’t stop lecturing me about, remember?”

Sometimes it was a curse that she paid attention to what he told her.

“But I’m bored. Can’t I just come with you and stay outside the house?”

“Hmm, maybe you can go to the beach and do some bird watching? Collect shells? Something that doesn’t cause the universe to collapse?”

He shuffled his feet. He didn’t like the thought of not being able to do anything. Especially staying alone while Clara was going out adventuring with some suspicious bloke with a TARDIS. But she was right. She was right more often than he dared to admit. Finally, he handed her the picture.

“Here you are. Let’s see what you can find out. But beware of that Tinkerer. I don’t quite trust him.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“I’m quite sure that feeling is mutual, so it’s really for the best if you don’t come into sight. He is quite a mistrustful guy. But for what it’s worth, I like him.”

He gave her his best scowl with his eyebrows in attack mode, hoping it would convey his concern for her safety sufficiently. She smiled and waved at him as she went through the door.

He stared after her. Perhaps she was right?

He could use a nice walk on the beach.


	5. Chapter 5

„Great to see you again, Miss Oswald.” The Tinkerer said.

“Clara,” she replied simply.

“Delighted, Clara, come on in.”

He led her again to the tearoom and she handed him the picture.

“Here, do you happen to know her?”

The Tinkerer looked at the picture. For a short moment she thought she saw a glimpse of surprise in his green eyes and a twitch of his eyebrows. But then he shook his head.

“I first thought she looked familiar, but no, I have never seen this woman.”

“Perhaps your wife has?”

“I’ll go and ask her.”

He went up and left the room. After a while he came back.

“She doesn’t know her, either,” he shrugged, “You didn’t tell me too much about your friend. What is this all about?”

She remembered the warning of the Doctor and decided to tread carefully.

“He grew up in an asylum and this picture is the only hint at who his mother might be. One of the carers gave it to him. He wants to find out what happened to her.”

The Tinkerer nodded.

“Well, good luck with your search.”

She saw that he hesitated before he formed the next sentence.

“I guess the Doctor is with you?”

For a moment she was not sure if she should tell him. She stared out of the window and saw that the Doctor was on the beach, leaning against a rock and apparently talking to some seagulls.

If the Tinkerer and his wife were not relatives, then it should be fine to introduce them. But if they were family… What could happen in the worst case? The Tinkerer didn’t behave like a killer. And if he was trying something it would be the Doctor and herself against him. They hardly ever needed to kill anyone, usually there were a range of other options.

She was curious enough to see what happens when two Time Lords met – and the other one wasn’t Missy. She decided to give it a shot, even if it might be a dangerous decision.

“He is.”

“I’d like to meet him. I heard many things and would like to find out what about it is true myself.”

She nodded her agreement. If they met at the beach, the Tinkerer would be far enough from his TARDIS so he couldn’t try anything with it.

The Tinkerer went to check again on his wife before he put on his flat cap and scarf and followed her outside.

It was a short stroll down a narrow path to the shore and neither spoke. There was a tension between them she couldn’t exactly explain. Part of it was certainly the anticipation of what would happen next. The Doctor didn’t trust the Tinkerer and she wasn’t quite sure she did. She didn’t know much about the Time Lords but the few things she knew, she didn’t like at all. The new discovery that the Doctor was given into the care of an asylum where they treated him poorly made matters worse.

When they reached the shore, the Doctor still leaned against the rock, a flock of seagulls standing in a half-circle around him. When he saw them approach and his eyes met hers his face lightened up, just to darken at the sight of the Tinkerer.

He said something to the seagulls which made them respectfully back away as he stood upright and started to meet them.

When they finally met, the two Time Lords stood face to face, knees slightly bent, like tigers ready to attack. The scene reminded her of the showdowns in old western movies. Two pairs of ancient eyes, both filled with the anger, the sorrow, the hope and the loss of centuries, stormy blue on one side, fierce green on the other. Neither blinked, neither spoke a word.

They were measuring each other, trying to figure out what the other was up to. They stood like this for minutes. She nearly couldn’t stand the tension.

“The Doctor. An odd name for a Time Lord.”

The Tinkerer finally said.

“The Tinkerer. A similar odd name for a Time Lord.”

The Doctor replied.

The wind ruffled both the ginger mane of the Tinkerer and the grey curls of the Doctor as they stood in silence. There was something strangely similar in their appearance, in the way they held their backs and their heads, despite the visual differences, Clara thought.

“Why the Doctor, then?” The Tinkerer demanded.

“A Doctor helps people.” The Doctor replied. “Why the Tinkerer?”

The Tinkerer took a deep breath.

“The Tinkerer also helps people. He mends stuff, he helps to build homes, bridges, carriages and ships. But the Tinkerer also likes to travel. He is an outcast of his own folk. They appreciate his help, but they loath his company. They drive him out of town as soon as his job is done. This is the life of every tinkerer and this is my life summed up. I found the name a very fitting one.”

It seemed that the Tinkerer had grown several inches while he spoke with a sense of pride and self-confidence.

“But you, who calls himself the Doctor; you say you chose the name because a Doctor helps people. Well, I travelled the universe up and down. I worked on building sites on thousands of planets. I built houses and bridges and space stations and hospitals. I sat by the campfires with the workers and listened to their stories. I heard many stories about the Doctor. Some had different names for him, though: The Oncoming Storm, the Exterminator, the Great Destroyer, the Bringer of Darkness, The Demon. And I heard about him allowing people to get killed, that he killed people himself, that he blew things up and destroyed whole planets and suns. How does this fit into your scheme of helping people, Doctor?”

She saw the Doctor suddenly lowering his eyes.

“I lost count how long I lived, but it should be well over 3,000 years by now. I fixed things. I travelled and I came into some difficult situations. I had accidents that made me regenerate. I even once was murdered. But I never ever had to kill someone. And I still have regenerations left. Now, look at you! I heard you used up a whole regeneration circle and by some sinister magic you are granted some more. How many innocent people have you killed? Have you lost count? Have you ever thought about how much blood stains your hands? Some doctor you are!”

The Doctor had lowered his head by now, deeply ashamed. He lifted his head once more to meet the gaze of the Tinkerer.

“You are right.” He said in a low voice, his hands held in a gesture of defeat.

She couldn’t believe what she heard. He wasn’t going to step up for his defense. He didn’t even use his “just a bloke in a box” speech. The Doctor, her Doctor, was accepting being insulted like this by a stranger as if it was true. Well, if he was not willing to set things straight, she very well was.

“Listen here, mister! You say you never were forced to kill anyone. Well, I say, lucky you! Have you ever wondered why you were able to live a peaceful life? Why there were planets you could build houses and bridges and hospitals on? Well, for the last 2,000 years there was somebody out there who kept you and your workers safe from the attacks of Daleks and Cybermen and Siltheens and Zygons and whatever monsters this stupid old universe created.”

Unconsciously, she had stepped protectively in front of her Doctor, scowling at the Tinkerer.

“I respect your profession; I respect everyone who builds and creates and keeps his hands away from weapons. But you, Sir, have to understand that this was possible because somebody else was standing on guard for you and all the other innocent people. There was somebody out there who answered the distress calls throughout the universe. There was one man making the difficult decisions. And sometimes, there were just bad options to choose from, but he had to choose anyway. Sometimes you can’t save everyone. Sometimes the only thing you can do is saving someone. And sometimes you can’t even do that.”

She looked deep into the ancient green eyes that looked at her with a mixture of respect and amusement. It did nothing to calm her anger.

“This man,” and she pointed behind her, “has done more for your protection than anybody else, and I demand that you treat him with the respect he deserves for it.”

As she finished, she folded her arms, still interlocking her eyes with the Tinkerer’s. The reaction was not the one she had expected. Not at all. The Tinkerer put his arms on his hips, tilted his head back and let out a laugh that was louder than the crashing of the waves. So loud that it even echoed back from the cliffs. 

“Clara Oswald,” he finally exclaimed, “you are EXACTLY the way people describe you in the stories told by the campfires.”

He turned serious again.

“Now that I have seen what I wanted to see; I think it’s time for me to tell you a story. A true story. But I don’t want to leave my wife for too long and it seems we will get a little drizzle again in no time, so maybe you want to follow me to my place to hear it?”

She turned to look at the Doctor. He shrugged and nodded. Was she just imagining it or were there tears glistering in his eyes?

They started for the small path towards the white house on the cliffs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback, as always, much appreciated! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and especially tounknowndestinations (Azalays) and Cornuts360 for faithfully commenting on this.  
As always, very much appreciated!

A fire was crackling in the fireplace on the wall of what seemed to be the living room of the Tinkerer’s TARDIS. The Doctor and Clara sat on a comfortable sofa in front of it, waiting for the Tinkerer to return from his wife.

The Doctor felt uncomfortable. This was a TARDIS. An older model than his own, a TARDIS 20, probably a Mark 2 or Mark 3, but still an impressive piece of technology. And knowing what Gallifreyan technology could do, he was sure he had good reasons to be skeptical. More than that, the Tinkerer had made clear what he thought of him. And he had a point. He wasn’t as sure about his achievements as Clara. In fact, he doubted he had had any good influence on the universe.

Speaking of Clara, it astounded him how uncompromisingly she was willing to take a stand for him. She was indeed an impossible girl, he thought as his eyes rested on the small human figure beside him who stared to the fireplace, lost in her own thoughts. 

The Tinkerer came in and set a tray with tea and whisky on the small side table. Clara chose tea and he followed suit figuring it was best to keep his senses as sharp as possible. The Tinkerer, however, settled for a generous amount of whisky. Then he sat in a large armchair, taking a large sip before he began to speak:

“Once upon a time… Isn’t this how all fairytales start? In a way, this may sound like a fairytale, but I swear every word is true.

I can’t quite remember the year, time traveler’s disease, I guess, but it must have been around the middle of the nineteenth century on Earth when my good friend John Miller called me. He had to build a large railway viaduct over a river and wanted my opinion on some of his ideas. Ballochmyle Viaduct – don’t know if it is still in use in your time.

Anyway, I shared some thoughts with him, and I checked back on him after some years, like I always do, to see how the construction was going. The foreman on the building site, Phineas Gate, had a daughter. She was 29 by the time, intelligent enough to be a civil engineer, although the rules of her time did not allow her to become one. So, she kept the household for her father and was on site every day.

She was highly respected by the workers as well as by my friend Miller. We often had tea together at Gate’s house where we would discuss railway engineering and other technical problems. One day we discussed the possibility of time travelling. Miller and I of course kept our mouths shut, but daughter and father sure came into a heated debate. She thought it was possible, he didn’t think so.

Needless to say, I invited her for a one-time trip in my TARDIS afterwards.”

He took another sip and stared at the fireplace before his eyes rested first on Clara, then interlocked with the Doctor’s.

“It’s a strange thing. You don’t just ask anybody to join you in the TARDIS, do you?”

Just like back on the beach, he felt the green eyes sinking into him, searching his soul, trying to figure out what kind of a man sat before him. He felt uncomfortable under this scrutinizing stare, but he didn’t dare to avoid it for some strange reason.

“I mean, in a way you make yourself vulnerable, you let them see something that might put you into danger if they don’t handle it properly. It is a sign of deep trust. You only invite somebody you would entrust with your life, am I right?”

This incarnation had only once actively dared to invite somebody to join him. Perkins, the Chief Engineer of the Orient Express. And this somebody had declined his offer because he thought the job could change a man. When he had asked Clara to stay on board, she also declined, and it needed his previous incarnation to talk her into it. He flinched at the thought – it still hurt. And he sure had a long list of people who wanted to travel with him and who he turned down. So, this observation was probably accurate. He nodded his agreement.

The Tinkerer gave him one last obscure stare before he emptied his glass and refilled it.

“Well, well, just as I thought. So, she gladly joined me and was amazed to see the concept of time-travelling put into effect. I also showed her some of the engineering projects I had a part in. The bridge over the Quam’nam Pen on Phark Baharan, the Great Central Hospital of Bazillius 5, and the interchangeable booth system for the fairs on Erkmat 7.”

“Those were all built by you?”

He exclaimed. Those were all engineering masterpieces, either because of their dimensions or because of their ingenuity. The booth system allowed Erkmat 7 to conduct more fairs in a closer succession than any other of the fair and entertainment planets.

“No, no, no, I only helped,” he said with an appeasing gesture. “I just made the static calculations for the bridge, the logistics concept for the hospital and designed the folding mechanism for the booths.”

Which were, of course, the things that made those projects outstanding, he thought. If you wanted to study how to unsuccessfully disguise greatness, you had to study the Tinkerer.

“Anyway, she was really impressed. She asked me if she could join me. Travelling with me she would have the possibility to work as an engineer because in the future nobody cared about her gender as long as she was good at her job. She wanted to travel as my apprentice if I would accept her.

I was very willing to accept, but I had to convince her father first. Who wants to let his daughter go out adventuring with some stranger, right? Especially with a Tinkerer.”

And he winked at Clara who gave the Tinkerer a strange, complicit smile in return. He was sure he missed a double meaning here.

“So, I talked to Miller who put in a good word for me. He told Gate that it was an exceptional opportunity to work as an apprentice for me because I was travelling building sites around the world. He was of course careful enough to omit the fact that the universe and time were also included. And I promised to make sure she would always be home for Christmas. Finally, he agreed.

So, we started travelling the universe together. She was a quick learner once she had all the means to study the art of engineering. Soon she had read my whole library and learned quite advanced static calculations with the help of my faithful TARDIS.”

An approving hum from the TARDIS.

“Soon she was much more than just an apprentice. She picked up on the technical aspects and added her unique way of thinking and seeing things. Combined with her ability to talk to people from all kinds of backgrounds and to create a working relationship she became an indispensable asset for all my projects. Everything went better, easier when she was by my side.”

The Tinkerer took a long sip.

“As you well know, there are certain dangers to time travelling and companionship. Finally, it happened: I committed the worst crime a Time Lord could commit.”

Clara gasped. He felt the Tinkerer’s sharp eyes again, trying to search his soul.

“Well, if you travel with the most intelligent and beautiful woman in the universe, it was likely to happen. I don’t say that it needed to happen, but it happened. I fell in love with her, with a female human.”

The Tinkerer shrugged, raised his glass in a cheering gesture and emptied it without taking his eyes off him.

Was this really the Tinkerer’s story? Or was the Tinkerer telling his story, slightly modified, to lure him into a trap? He was not sure. He had the urge to take Clara’s hand because he was absolutely not feeling okay with the whole situation, but maybe this was what the Tinkerer was looking for? Signs of affection that would tell him that he was on the right path? That he hit a nerve?

It would not be the first time his own people tried to outsmart him and just because he hadn’t found Gallifrey didn’t mean that they hadn’t found him instead and plotted something. He resisted the urge to grab Clara’s hand or even look at her. Instead, he started calculating possible ways to escape, taking into account known weaknesses in the security systems of the TARDIS 20 models.

But it was too late.

He already felt Clara’s small hand creeping into his, searching for his reassurance.

To hell with it, he thought. If it was a trap, it wasn’t the first they went into and certainly not the last they would escape from together.

He took her hand firmly into his and squeezed it gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ballochmyle Viaduct is still in use today. You will - probably without noticing it - cross it between the stations Kilmarnock and Auchinleck when you take the ScotRail Carlisle Line between Glasgow and Newcastle. With its tracks 177 ft above the ground it is still [the highest railway bridge](https://www.scotsman.com/lifestyle-2-15039/scottish-fact-of-the-day-ballochmyle-viaduct-1-3600297) in the UK.  
Would have loved to have the Tinkerer being part in the building of the Forth Bridge or the second Firth-of-Tay bridge but unfortunately both didn't fit my timeline. So, this beauty in sandstone got it.  



	7. Chapter 7

When the Tinkerer mentioned he committed the worst crime a Time Lord could commit her heart sank. What if she had underestimated the danger they were in?

But when he confessed that he simply fell in love with his intelligent companion his story felt just so relatable. She had to grab her Doctor’s hand. To her surprise she felt that he was anxious. No, he was outright scared.

She wondered if she missed something.

All she could see was an ancient man with a young face who would probably be drunk in a very short while if he kept his pace in drowning the whisky while telling his story.

“Of course, I denied that I had fallen in love with her,” he continued, refilling his glass, “even towards myself. A Time Lord shouldn’t fall in love. Power over space and time should never be controlled by emotions. It’s for the best that the Gallifreyan society does everything to discourage their people from showing emotions starting at the earliest age, don’t you think?”

She saw that the Tinkerer tried to pin the Doctor with his eyes again. She wondered what kind of game this man played.

“That’s bullshit, Tinkerer!”

She blurted. She didn’t care which game of secret Time Lord mind chess they probably played eying each other, but discouraging children from showing emotions was completely, utterly wrong and cruel. Although it explained a lot. No wonder this whole Gallifreyan society was so weird, and the Doctor ran away from it. And she could imagine some of the things that probably went on in that asylum. She softly squeezed the hand of her Doctor.

“I like you, Clara Oswald! Always straightforward and explicit! And she’s cute when she’s angry, cute and hot.”

He continued with a wink at the Doctor.

“Well, well, here’s to you, Clara!”

The Tinkerer laughed, raising his glass to her.

“Aye, she’s right, yer talking mince!”

Shouted the Doctor, which took her by surprise. First, because his whole behavior towards the Tinkerer up until now had been passively hostile, but very defensive and quiet. Then, he was always hiding his emotions, especially the softer ones, so she didn’t expect him to disagree with the Tinkerer’s standpoint. And finally, this incarnation always had a Scottish accent, but she never heard him use slang. Probably the TARDIS tried to translate some equally vulgar Gallifreyan, she mused.

The Doctor stared at the Tinkerer with his eyebrows in their fiercest attack mode, his teeth were showing, and his nostrils were inflated. He looked like a tiger ready to jump. A slightly jealous tiger, she noted, which she found endearing.

“Ah, well, well, glad to see the tiger can at least bare his teeth when someone comes too close to his favorite tigress.”

The Tinkerer seemed to be deeply amused. He emptied his glass and gave it a refill, to which she arched an eyebrow. The occasions where she had had to deal with a drunken Time Lord had been scarce, but the few times it had been worse than dealing with a group of drunken teenagers.

“Ah, don’t worry, Clara. I’m not half as drunk as you might expect. We can totally agree that discouraging people from showing emotions is utterly wrong and that it explains why this whole Gallifreyan society is so seriously distorted. I just wanted to coax your Doctor out of his shell a wee bit.”

He raised his glass again to the Doctor.

“Or in words that you understand, Captain Crabbit: It was just a lot of codswallop!”

Obviously, the Doctor was not convinced because he kept on sitting on the edge of the sofa in attack mode, scowling at the Tinkerer. The younger – or older – man instead leaned back in his chair to continue his story.

“As I said. I denied that I fell in love, even towards myself. In the beginning it was easy because I didn’t expect that she would love me back. And she was my apprentice. I had a duty of care for her. I kept the distance as well as I could. But when you work closely together and travel time and space it becomes really hard. Really, really hard. Well, I guess I don’t have to tell you about it.”

And he cheered in their direction before he took another large gulp of whisky.

“Still, it needed a mining disaster for us to confess that we loved each other. I wouldn’t be sitting here alive if she hadn’t been persistent and led the rescue team to save my men and me. And I doubt I’d sit here a married man if she hadn’t taken the first step and admitted that she loved me.”

He emptied his glass and stared to the fireplace for a while. Obviously lost in his memories, she thought. There were tears glistering in his eyes.

Suddenly, he got up and left the room.

She looked over at the Doctor who plainly avoided her eyes and found his fingernails extremely interesting. Sometimes his awkwardness was just so adorable, she thought.

“Ah, come on, admit it’s a beautiful love story so far!”

He looked up and as soon as their eyes met, he looked abruptly to the door and stood up. Coward, she thought.

“Yes, might be, but is it true or is he putting us on, and this is a trap? I wonder where he went and if there is a wife at all.”

He spurted for the door just to collide with the Tinkerer who reentered the room.

“Sorry, had to make sure my wife is alright, and she got everything she needs.” The Tinkerer said. “You don’t want to leave before you heard the rest of the story, do you?”

The Doctor gave an undistinguishable grunt as he let himself slump on the sofa again.

“Of course not, Tinkerer!” She said and gave him a warm smile. The Tinkerer sat down in his chair, refilling his glass.

“Well, I spare you the part with me being literally kicked out of the house when I asked her father for her hand in marriage. And I won’t go into details of our wedding ceremony other than mentioning that it was really beautifully done by the team of the Orient Express.”

“You can get married on the Orient Express?” She gasped. “Did you know that, Doctor?”

She looked at the Doctor who took deep interest in the pattern of the carpet and the tips of his shoes.

“Yes, sure, it’s very romantic. And because we were outcast by our families, we had no guests, it was just the two of us. But the rest of the passengers celebrated with us. There was a band, and we danced and there was a wedding cake…” The Tinkerer relished the fact that the topic was obviously awkward for the Doctor who had sunken a little deeper into the sofa.

“Anyway,” he finally took mercy on him, “we kept on travelling and building and helping people. We had a wonderful time together. And then, I’d say about three years into our marriage, although, as you know, time is hard to estimate when you travel in a TARDIS, we decided to start a family.”

He took another sip of whisky and reached into his jacket.

“If you ask me which was the happiest day of my life, I would have to choose between the day we got married and…” he took a photograph out of his pocket, “…the day my son was born.” His whole expression turned soft, even his sideburns and eyebrows, it seemed. His eyes became wet again and there was a tender smile on his face when he let two fingers hover over his son’s face.

He handed her the picture. It showed a baby in an exquisitely carved cradle, a mobile with Gallifreyan signs hanging above his head.

“What has become of him? Where is he now?” She asked in a low voice.

“Well, you might want to consider the choice of your drink, because there’s a nightmare in this fairytale.”

The Tinkerer said, looking first at her before he let his green eyes rest on the Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If they don't do weddings at the Space Orient Express, they very well should! Or is it just me?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, well, didn't want to let you wait for too long. ;)

The Tinkerer had taken the photo back and kept looking at it while he continued his story with a faint smile.

“The first months of pregnancy went pretty well, if you don’t count an over-anxious father-to-be, that is. But when she was six months in, something changed. There were accidents. Now, working in construction is always dangerous, but you kind of develop a sixth sense for it and avoid unsafe situations.

We were working on the big dam of Blaird Grain on Delta Gayham. I didn’t think too much of it when a concrete bucket broke loose from the crane and nearly squashed Penelope. I became a bit more suspicious when the brakes of her jeep failed while driving down a steep hill. I knew the manager of the machine park and he always kept his vehicles in the best working condition.

I ordered Penelope to stay in the TARDIS but of course she didn’t really want to stay off site and you can’t hold back a confident woman. So, we settled for her staying close to me so I could watch over her.

This worked well for about a month or so. But then, it happened: We went for lunch in the worker’s canteen when suddenly an apparently drunk worker picked a quarrel with me. We got into a heated debate that soon developed into a brawl. In the midst of it, another worker had drawn a knife and stabbed Penelope with it, several times before I could intervene.

We called the medical officer and I brought Penelope to the medbay of the TARDIS immediately. For some time, she and the child were close to death. Two stabs had missed the mother’s heart by a quarter of an inch. Another one had hit the womb. She had lost a lot of blood and we immediately set up an emergency operation.

The only option to save the mother’s life was to deliver the child immediately, although it was much too early. We were not sure if the baby was able to survive this.

When we cut the umbilical cord and the medical officer gave the boy to me, he would have easily fit into my cap. He really was this tiny.”

The Tinkerer showed the size with his hands, obviously recalling how he held the baby.

“But he was healthy. Perfect, really, and his two hearts were beating strong. I really had hoped he would be an ordinary human boy, but unfortunately, he inherited the whole cursed Time Lord biology. The knife had scraped the back of his head, but fortunately it hadn’t damaged anything important.”

The Doctor immediately reached to the back of his head to a small scar that always remained there, throughout all regenerations. His eyes met the Tinkerer’s. The Tinkerer nodded nearly unnoticeably. Realization dawned at him. He gulped and closed his eyes for a moment.

The man in front him was his father and this story was his story.

“Doctor, you are white as a sheet, what’s the matter with you?”

Clara looked at him, deeply worried. He looked her in the eyes. He couldn’t speak a word. Too overwhelming the revelation. Too horrifying, really.

He bowed his head down and grabbed Clara’s hand to guide it to the small scar on the back of his head so she could make the obvious connection herself.

He felt her fingers softly stroking over the scar.

“The Doctor is your son?” She asked.

The Tinkerer nodded.

“I wasn’t sure until now. You never said who the friend in search of his mother is. But of course, I suspected it from the very first time you mentioned it.”

He heard everything muffled, as if there was a thick wall of fog around him. This strange, young looking, ginger, impolite alien who had provoked him several times was his father. And if his story was true, then his mother was about to die next door. His parents, the ones who had abandoned him.

“Well, I was not sure we could trust you.” He heard Clara say. He wondered if she had always been this cautious or if his own mistrust had rubbed off on her.

“And I wasn’t sure I could trust you. Of course, I heard of the Doctor, but the stories told around the campfires are seldom told firsthand. The friend of a friend of a father of a friend stories – you can never be sure if the villain was originally the hero or vice versa. The Doctor could have been the man who saved the universe or the monster who tried to destroy it. I had to find out for myself.”

The Tinkerer poured himself another whisky and looked questioningly at Clara and him. Clara shook her head, but he felt himself nod. The Tinkerer filled another glass.

As he reached for it, he saw that his own hand was shaking. He steadied it and took a sip. The burning in his throat and the warmth it induced in his belly pushed the fog away slightly.

“I was not sure what I should do,” the Tinkerer continued. “Penelope is very weak and we both hadn’t expected to see our son ever again. It is still quite a shock for me.”

“So, you didn’t know the Doctor is your son?” Clara asked. She sounded skeptical.

The Tinkerer shook his head.

“I had no idea!” He rubbed his face with his right hand. “And as I said, I also had no idea who the Doctor was. What kind of a man he really was. Was he a good man? Someone I could introduce to Penelope as her son? Was he a bad man? A monster, even? Did I have to send you away and hide the knowledge from her as good as possible?”

He felt a wave of guilt wash over him. How often had he asked himself the same questions? He had come to terms with himself, at least sort of. He was just an idiot in a box who tried his best to help people and learn. And he had Clara to help him navigate the task.

He felt Clara’s arm wrapping around his arm as she addressed the Tinkerer:

“I hope you have made your decision. For what it’s worth, I would be proud to have a son like him.”

The Tinkerer let out a long laugh. It was not as loud as the one on the beach, much softer, but his whole body shook with amusement.

“One thing is sure: I would be proud to have a daughter like you, Clara Oswald.”

Then he turned serious again and he avoided looking at him. He was addressing Clara when he gave his account.

“It’s nearly impossible to tell how a man really is. And I’m not sure if I could answer the questions I had about the Doctor about myself. But I tried to get an impression by studying him, even provoking him. How would he react when I accused him of being a monster?

I think a real monster would deny it. And an average man would make excuses and try to explain. I think this is what I would have done. He for that matter accepted it without arguing.

He wouldn’t go into any debate with me, but he was quick to step up for your defense when I was provoking and insulting you.

I think you can best judge a man by his friends and how he treats them. He seems to be picky who he asks to travel with him, which tells me he is a cautious, thoughtful man. And he treats you with utmost respect, which should go without saying, but trust me, I saw otherwise.

And of course, that you immediately stepped up to defend him when he didn’t fight for himself told me a lot.”

The green eyes of the Tinkerer rested again on him, but they seemed to have softened. Now, his father had measured him and apparently found him worthy. But what about him? If this was a love story and they did want to have a child, why had they abandoned him? 

A whole range of emotions battled inside him. Clara seemed to understand, because he felt her small hand grabbing his forearm, softly stroking it with her thumb. He felt her touch steadied him, made the pressure, the pain and the rage bearable. It kept him from going insane.

Finally, he managed to ask.

“What happened to me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Penelope's father has a namesake, although he is called Phineas Ga**g**e, not Gate, a not so fortunate railway construction foreman. His [sad case](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phineas_Gage) helped scientists to understand how certain areas of the brain are related to personality.  
As I deliberately omitted Penelope’s forename up until this chapter, the footnote is here, not in chapter 6.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the kudos, the bookmarks and the kind comments. Very much appreciated. :)

“What happened to me?“

The Doctor asked.

The Tinkerer sighed.

“I will tell you. But I think I left Penelope alone for too long and maybe she would like to tell some of the story herself. I already told her we have guests and if you don’t mind, I would like to prepare her for _who_ the guests are before we go to her.”

He stood up and left the room.

The Doctor stood up, too, pacing the room aimlessly. He looked deeply disturbed.

Clara stood up and got in his way, reaching for his shoulders, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Doctor, stop right there and look at me, will you?”

He looked at her, eyebrows knitted, eyes unsteady like a wounded animal.

“I know this will not be easy, but I’m here, okay? I can see you are angry and upset and scared to meet your mother. And that you feel like running away. I want you to know that if this is what you decide to do, I’m coming with you.”

She kneaded his shoulders, hoping to soothe his nerves, if only just a little.

“But I’d suggest that we will go in there and listen to their story. What we have heard so far, you were planned, and they wanted to have you. We will learn now what happened afterwards and why you ended up in the asylum. And whatever that is, it doesn’t change what you are or what we do together. And if it gets too painful, there’s always your TARDIS outside and we can still run away, you and I. Okay?” 

He closed his eyes and nodded.

The Tinkerer came in again.

“Okay, we are ready, will you please come with me?”

Clara took the Doctor’s hand and they followed the Tinkerer to another room. It was a comfortable bedroom with elegant furniture in warm colors. In the large double bed sat a small woman with white hair, back against the headboard, eying them as they entered.

The Doctor stood still by the door, refusing to make any step further inside. Clara was torn between staying with the Doctor and going to the bed to shake the hand of the elderly lady. She figured while it was impolite not to go and greet their host, it was more important to show her support to her Doctor by staying by his side.

The Tinkerer looked at them, surprised.

“If you both don’t mind, we’d prefer to stay here.”

Clara said apologetically. The Tinkerer arched an eyebrow, whereas the woman nodded understandingly.

“Well then, Pops, seems our son is still not convinced he can trust us.”

The Tinkerer smiled a bitter little smile.

She felt the anger welling up in the Doctor and she squeezed his hand tightly.

“He asked what happened to him after his birth.”

The Tinkerer said to his wife and sat down on the bed.

“Well, first and foremost I was glad we were able to save his life. Although I must admit that if I would have had to choose between mother and child…”

He wrapped his arm around his wife, who let her head rest against his chest.

“I’m just glad I didn’t have to. My boy was alive and healthy and with the help of the TARDIS he developed just like any other normal baby, despite he was born too early. Our luck was complete, wasn’t it, Pops?”

His wife nodded her agreement, looking over to them, apparently trying to meet the Doctor’s eyes. He made a step backwards, seeking the protective shadow of the door frame.

“For a while it seemed like the nightmare was over. But when we left the vortex and started travelling again, the accidents and odd occurrences continued. I had already established a thesis why someone was trying to kill the child and who that someone was and I’m pretty sure the Doctor has the same idea, am I right?”

“The Hybrid.” The Doctor said in a low voice filled with horror.

“What’s the Hybrid?” Clara asked.

“It’s a Gallifreyan prophecy: A crossbred of two great warrior races who will stand over the ruins of Gallifrey and unravel the web of time. Personally, I always thought it was rubbish. Exactly the kind of nonsense a fearful society like the Time Lords would invent to discourage interspecies relationships. But the High Council takes it very seriously. Which we learned the hard way. For me, there is no doubt that they sent out assassins as soon as they learned Penelope was pregnant.”

The Tinkerer sighed.

“We didn’t know what to do about it. I was constantly scanning our surroundings for possible attacks, checking and double checking wherever we went. There were a few close calls, but I always managed to get mother and child out alive. After only a few months I was frazzled. Look at those hands.”

He held his hands facing upwards, looking at them with distress.

“Those are not the hands of a warrior. They are meant to create something, to draw plans, to hold tools… they are not meant to fight. And my mind is not tailored to anticipate hostile steps of an enemy and foil evil plans.”

He let his head sink. Clara felt deep compassion with the desperate Time Lord.

For the first time, his wife began to speak. Her voice was soft and low, but steady. She had a melodic accent Clara couldn’t quite place.

“It couldn’t go on like this. I saw my husband becoming slimmer and slimmer because of the stress. He hardly ever slept. His personality changed. He was always alert, always assuming danger behind each and every corner. He had stopped laughing and cracking jokes.”

Penelope looked up at the Tinkerer and lay her hand on his forearm.

“We considered our options. My family had thrown us out of their house but perhaps they would care for the child if we came back begging them. But the boy with his alien biology – if he ever would become ill, there was a high chance doctors would treat him wrong and he would die.

So, Gallifrey was the other option. There we could be sure the medical care was excellent, and he would get a good education, because it was already clear that he would become very intelligent.”

A tender smile crossed her lips.

“My husband’s best friend and his wife agreed they would take the boy and raise him together with their own child, a girl that was a year older. It seemed a perfect match. In all secrecy we prepared the handing over. On a far away planet without inhabitants we landed both our TARDISes. It was by then the hardest day of my life, letting go of my sweet little boy.”

Tear glistered in her eyes as she looked up and once again tried to establish eye contact with the Doctor who clung to Clara’s hand as if his life depended on it. Penelope’s voice was now low and somber.

“But it went wrong. Just as their TARDIS dematerialized there was a big explosion.”

She fell silent and the Tinkerer pulled her closer in his embrace. No one dared to speak a word for some time. Then, Penelope took a deep breath and continued.

“It was Gallifreyan technology, a bomb that destroyed the whole TARDIS and their passengers without leaving a sign. Effectively killing the whole family.”

Clara saw that now both, the Tinkerer and his wife, had tears in their eyes, and she felt her own tears welling up. But if the TARDIS was destroyed, how was the baby saved?

“That can’t be true, because I’m still here.”

She heard the voice of her Doctor behind her. It was hoarse and rife with suspicion.

The Tinkerer took a deep breath before he lifted his head and stared to the point at the door where he suspected his son’s eyes. His whole expression changed. He frowned and his green eyes were glistering with tears and anger. Even his sideburns seemed to stand on end angrily.

“It’s a shame to see that you are so quick to mistrust us. I myself had to develop exactly this kind of mistrust the hard way for the sake of protecting you, my son!”

His voice was deep and hollering.

“So that you know: For about a year I was almost always on my toes. Scanning every single drop of water, every gift, every toy, every piece of clothing, everything that came in the vicinity of my son. Checking and double checking any road, any bridge, any shrubbery we crossed for potential dangers. Never going farther from my TARDIS than absolutely necessary. I even carried a gun, although I abhor any form of violence.”

He stood up and crossed the room. They were facing again like they had faced each other on the beach.

“You doubt what my wife says? Well, you better start thinking and thinking hard why you are standing here in front of me, alive and well. It is because I,” and with that he pointed repeatedly and violently at his own chest, “I had to start thinking like my own enemies to save you, son.”

The last sentence he shouted and spit out the word “son” as if it was a swearword. Clara had the urge to drag the Doctor behind her to bring herself between the two angry Time Lords. She was held back by a soft voice from the bed.

“Dear Gallifrey, Tinkerer! Do you even hear yourself talking? It’s not the boy’s fault that your best friend was killed. Nor was it yours, for that matter! Will you come back here to me and let me tell this story?”

The Tinkerer literally slumped. He bowed his head and shuffled back to take his position on the bed near his wife. She softly took his hand and continued:

“After all the attempts of the Time Lords to kill my son my husband had taken extra precautions. He had built a special baby carrier that had all sorts of sensors and a chronodyne generator inside. One of the sensors reacted to the detonator of the bomb, so the carrier was transferred back two hours in time one moment before the bomb detonated.”

She let out a deep sigh.

“So, the bomb killed our friends and their daughter, but you,” and again she tried to find and meet the Doctor’s eyes, “were back with us, safe and sound.”

She heard a deep exhale beside her and when she looked to the Doctor, she saw that he staggered. Fortunately, she had enough experience with him being shot or suddenly losing consciousness when poisoned she knew exactly how she could prevent him from falling. She immediately put her shoulder under his armpit and dragged his arm around her shoulder. She put her arm around his waist and guided him to the chaise longue by the wall where she sat him down.

She forgot everything else in the room as she carefully took his legs and placed them on a pillow, so they were elevated. He was pale, his forehead glistered with cold sweat and he looked at her as if he was not quite there. She carefully felt his pulses, which were racing. She softly stroked his cheek.

“Hey, Doctor! Speak to me, what’s the matter, Doctor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With a whole lot of work coming up this week and a few deadlines to meet I don't know when I will be able to write the next chapter.  
So, I thought I'll give you a little bit of a collapsed Time Lord for the time being. You are welcome, Cornuts360!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after I met 2 of 3 looming deadlines and submitted another due text, I figured I could finish the next chapter as a treat to myself. :)

“Hey, Doctor! Speak to me, what’s the matter, Doctor?”

His vision was clouded and blurry, but he could recognize Clara’s face.

What was the matter?

He tried to think straight, but he couldn’t.

The past few hours had been worse than years of torture.

He had made his peace with his childhood long ago. He was an unwanted child, growing up in an asylum. He had endured all sorts of humiliation, of physical and emotional injuries. But they had not been able to break him. He had become reckless, fearless and headstrong. He never succumbed. Instead of giving in, he was rebelling against their beliefs and their system.

He broke their rules and he made his own. He found a personal creed that was very different from theirs. When he finally broke free, he was the Doctor. Never cruel or cowardly, always the one to reach out and help those in need, those who were looked upon and treated as inferior, those who were outcasts of their societies and those who were abandoned by their families, without hope and without friends.

But the foundation of his whole being had been that he himself was an outcast, a single man fighting against the universe. 

“Doctor!”

Clara seemed to be deeply worried. He didn’t want her to be worried. But the words of his father had cut deep. For centuries he had learned to think like his worse enemies. It had helped him to prevent at least some of the atrocities to happen. He had done so a thousand times. But he knew it had damaged his soul.

He knew it and accepted it. But to see how much it had affected a soul that only once had had to put up with this way of thinking brought it all back.

The Time War

The Daleks

Trenzalore

The Cybermen

The Zygons…

He could hear them again: the screams of those who he hadn’t been able to save. Children, women, men, ordinary citizens who hadn’t had anything to do with the wars, the invasions, the evil plans. Those who died because he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough to change their fate.

They died.

His father had seen his best friend and his family die because he tried to save him.

How many had lost their lives because of him since then?

It seemed that it all had been too much even for his superior Time Lord biology, it had caused a complete shutdown of his systems.

He felt unable to move.

He felt unable to speak.

Clara.

There would come the time he wouldn’t be able to save her.

“What’s the matter with him?”

It was the low voice of the small woman in the bed. The woman in the picture. The woman who was… he still couldn’t believe it.

“Is he alright?”

She sounded worried, too.

He wanted to say to Clara that they shouldn’t worry about him, that he was okay, but he couldn’t speak a word.

When Clara reached out to put her hand on his wrist, he managed to pull his arm away.

In the condition he was in he wouldn’t be able to shield his brain enough, so there was a risk they would bond telepathically, and all the pain, the fear and the horror would crash into her brain.

Clara reached out again, but this time just to drag the sonic sunglasses from his pocket. She scanned him.

“There are some error messages but only his TARDIS is able to analyze them correctly. From what I understand it’s something similar to a human blackout, combined with something that resembles a human panic attack or a flashback or maybe a shutdown. I’m not completely sure, but I’d say this whole situation is a bit much for a 2,000-year-old Time Lord who had believed he was abandoned by his parents because they didn’t want him and who never thought he would meet them. Better allow him some quiet time to process, I guess.”

She took off the sunglasses, so he was able to see her soft brown eyes again.

They were his anchors.

Those brown orbs always kept him from being washed away and drowned by his fears.

She kept him afloat.

And she understood.

Clara understood.

She understood him much better than he had dared to believe.

“Doctor, don’t worry, just concentrate on breathing. It’s alright. Just breath. Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. That’s it.”

He doubted that concentrating on his breathing would help in any way, but he did as he was told.

To his surprise, the screams in his head toned down and finally ceased.

He looked into her eyes with surprise.

How did she do that?

She often just knew how to handle situations he was not familiar with. And she often suggested solutions he didn’t think could work but which worked out perfectly. She could talk scared aliens into handing over their weapons or comfort children who had just lost their whole family. When he asked her how she did it, she usually claimed her “superior teacher skills”.

Slowly he felt in command of his body again. He needed to tell Clara that it worked and that she shouldn’t worry about him. For the moment all he could manage was to grab her small hand and give her a reassuring squeeze.

“Feeling better already, Doctor?” She smiled and squeezed his hand back.

He nodded. He looked over to the bed where his… where the Tinkerer and his wife stared at him with concerned expressions. How embarrassing!

He let go of Clara’s hand and sat up. His thoughts started racing again and he felt like running away.

His eyes met the eyes of the Tinkerer.

The man who had to learn to think like his enemies. The man who had to think about all possible ways someone could try to kill him to be able to build a special baby carrier that would save his life in all of these cases.

“Just like the Osgood Box.”

He mumbled.

“What is an Osgood Box?”

Clara asked confused. He was glad that there were some things she didn’t know. And he really hoped that the peace would prevail, and she would never have to find out.

“Doesn’t matter. I only…”

He looked over to the bed again. He still avoided eye contact with his… With the woman. He did understand that they had seen getting rid of him as the only option, but he still didn’t feel ready to meet her eyes, not to mention to forgive her.

If he was completely honest, he still couldn’t believe the woman was his mother. She looked just like she looked in the picture and this was much too young for an eighty-year-old.

He, however, had something to say to the Tinkerer. He stood up and looked into his green eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you had to go through this. No one should be forced to think like this. No one should be forced to think like me.”

“Your mom is right. It’s not your fault, son.” The Tinkerer shrugged.

“Maybe not, but I know how horrific this way of thinking is and how much it changes a man.” He said with a solemn voice. “Up to a point where you don’t know what’s good and bad anymore. Up to a point where the enemy isn’t someone who comes from the outside. Up to the point where the enemy is on the inside. Up to the point where you realize that you are just like the enemy.”

He saw that the Tinkerer nodded slowly.

He had hit the nerve.

Then he realized that Clara had taken her place by his side, and her arm crawled around his waist. The woman that fought back the enemy inside. The woman who forced him to try to be a good man. Who reminded him of his creed. She was there and she supported him. He let his hand rest on her shoulder.

The Tinkerer nodded and pulled his wife closer.

“It’s them who prevent us from becoming monsters, Doctor.”

He looked into the green eyes of the Tinkerer and suddenly felt that there was a bonding. He understood. He had been there.

He truly saw his father and his father truly saw his son.

Because he loved his son, he had started to think like his enemies, just to keep him safe. To ensure that he had a future.

And his son, who had grown up in an environment without love, had inherited and preserved this ability to love and had expanded it to everybody who was in need. He had learned to think like his enemies in order to save as many people as possible. 

And while for the Tinkerer it was just his wife that kept him from becoming a monster, he had been blessed with a whole range of companions that had been by his side and reminded him never to be cruel or cowardly and always to be kind.

Maybe he wasn’t as lost as he had thought.


	11. Chapter 11

“It’s them who prevent us from becoming monsters.”

The Tinkerer said. There was a long moment of silence, the Doctor and the Tinkerer just staring into the eyes of the other. Then the Tinkerer continued.

“When they killed my best friends and nearly you, I was out of my head. I vowed that I’d take revenge and kill whoever was responsible for it and kill their families while I was at it. I was obsessed with finding out who did it and kill them all.”

Clara saw how the rage and the grief was crawling in his eyes. It was long ago, but the pain of the loss was still burning strong.

Penelope chimed in.

“It took me some time to help him understand that it would not stop at finding one or two Time Lords who were out to kill our son. That with every dead assassin there would be two killers more. And that the families and friends of the dead Time Lords would certainly vow revenge like he did.

Slowly he understood that the more pressing question was how we could protect our son. Obviously, the Time Lords were observing us and our friends. We didn’t understand how. But we had learned the hard way that they did. Which meant that every attempt to hand the boy over to someone else held a high risk for everyone involved.

We needed to find a way to get him to Gallifrey without the using the help of our friends or relatives.”

His wife sank back into the pillows. She was exhausted. The Tinkerer softly stroked her cheek and continued the story.

“Whatever we decided to do, it had to be done in great secrecy. We were discussing different ideas but finally agreed that the only possible way was to find a transport that would land on Gallifrey anyway and smuggle our son in it.

This was easier said than done because, as you know, Gallifrey was always a very closed society and they had very few trade connections to other planets. Finally, we found a loophole. The High Council had decided to build a large zoo with species from throughout the universe – of course a way to show their citizens something from the great wide universe to diminish their longing to go out exploring it themselves.

As soon as I heard about it, the idea was born. Those transports would of course be inspected on arrival, but the cages with the animals only very superficially so. They wouldn’t open the cages and risk feral animals escaping in their customs facilities.

The only animals they would take from Earth and which would fit our purposes would be Barbary macaques from Gibraltar. A friend of us worked at the London Zoo and found out when the transport would take place. But of course, as a friend who would be potentially supervised by the Time Lords, he couldn’t transfer the child to the transport himself.

The transfer needed to be planned with great care. Every step on the way that included another person would be an additional risk. It played into our hands that the transport itself was planned in great secrecy – nobody should know that some of the monkeys, which are something like a sanctum to the British on Gibraltar, were taken by aliens. Although it has to be said that for the British “alien” already starts with other nations from Earth, like the French or the Spanish.”

He chuckled lightly before he continued.

“We were lucky – a friend of our zookeeper friend would be on the transport. We decided that he would be the only person introduced to the plan.

But of course, the friend of our friend couldn’t bring a monkey from London. We had to get the box to Gibraltar ourselves.

I built a special transport box that looked like a monkey transport cage on the outside but was a stasis chamber on the inside.”

“You put me into stasis?” The Doctor exclaimed, shocked.

“It was the only way to keep you safe on the transport. Think of it: a small boy, first on a ship on Earth and later on a livestock transport. You were about a year and a half back then, a very active boy who was already quite sure on his own two feet and very curious, always toddling somewhere to explore when we weren’t looking.”

The Tinkerer and his wife both smiled fondly at the memory.

“The only way to make sure that the plan would work was to put you into a stasis chamber. No one would have been able to look after a small boy and at the same time keep up the deception that they just cared for a monkey.”

Clara had to giggle involuntarily, and the Doctor shot her a confused look.

“Sorry, Doctor. It’s just… uhm… nothing.”

She couldn’t tell him that sometimes caring for him resembled caring for a hyperactive monkey. Her hyperactive monkey. She squeezed his hip reassuringly. The Tinkerer and his wife must have recognized why she had giggled because they both smiled.

Then the Tinkerer turned serious again.

“As I said, a stasis chamber was the only way to make this transport as safe as possible for you. I also attached all sorts of sensors and a chronodyne generator. Then, there was the hardest part…”

Here he sighed and paused for a short moment.

“We couldn’t bring you to Gibraltar using the TARDIS. We were sure that they tracked her movements, so I couldn’t bring you to the place we would hand you over. My part was to go everywhere else in the universe to distract them. When we put you into the chamber, it was the last time I saw you until now. It was the saddest day of my life when I had to leave Penelope and you behind.”

He placed a soft kiss on his wife’s head. Penelope had recovered a bit and continued the story.

“So, it was my part to board a ship to Gibraltar with you.”

She tried to find the Doctor’s eyes, but he still averted her glance. She sighed.

“It was a high risk, and my husband wanted to place a bodyguard by my side, but we couldn’t risk introducing another person to the plan. I was traveling disguised as a male engineer. The transport cage was disguised as one of those huge cases used for travelling overseas. We just hoped and prayed that this disguise – together with the TARDIS appearing in all corners of the universe – would be enough to distract the assassins.

Shortly before we arrived in Gibraltar I sneaked into the storeroom with the case and turned the disguise to animal transport box. Although it was a bit risky, I took you out of the stasis chamber to hold you in my arms one last time.”

Here, her voice broke. Tears were in her eyes. Her voice was nearly a whisper when she continued.

“I hugged you and gave you a kiss on the forehead. I told you that I loved you and that I hoped that you will grow up strong and caring and wise and that you will use your abilities to help and to create and to do good wherever possible. And that you should never forget that your parents loved you very much.

Then, I made sure you were comfortable before I closed the chamber to never see you again.”

Now the tears fell. She tried to establish eye contact again. But the Doctor just looked down to his feet. The Tinkerer hugged his wife and for a moment there was a deep, sad silence in the room. After a while, Penelope found the strength to continue her story.

“In Gibraltar the colleague of our friend brought the transport cage to the secret loading dock where the Gallifreyan transport would load it together with the other cages. He would ‘discover’ the boy on Gallifrey and bring him to an asylum as a foundling. He promised me to find a good asylum where you would be in the best hands.”

She felt the tension of the Doctor beside her. More than that, there was a feeling of abandonment, of deep humiliation and nearly unbearable pain. She could feel it just as if she was experiencing it herself. She felt he tried to close the thoughts and the feelings off from her, but they leaked, anyway. She felt she couldn’t do anything to help him. All she could do was to keep her arm wrapped tightly around his waist, showing him she was there to support him and to catch him if the emotional pain would become unbearable once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to learn something about Barbary macaques in Gibraltar and the British superstition towards them [read this](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbary_macaques_in_Gibraltar).  
If you are in need of something less dark, read what happens if Season 08 Twelve meets Season 10 Twelve in [How Do I Do?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21606988).


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, December is here so I thought we all could use a new chapter already. :)

That was it. That was the story how he ended up in that terrible place. He couldn’t really blame his mother. But somehow, he still did. Why hadn’t she found a way to keep at least a watch over him? Sure there would have been a way if she had wanted to. But she wanted to travel the universe with her Tinkerer, without second thoughts about what happened to her abandoned child.

Suddenly, he couldn’t stand it anymore. Not the two people who were his parents looking at him pitying from the bed. Not the small human beside him who would die on him within a few moments compared to his own time span. Not this damn TARDIS on the cliffs with this fake cuddly bedroom.

He freed himself from Clara’s embrace and scowled at his parents.

“And the boy lived happy ever after in a wonderful asylum where they took good care of him, supported his ambitions and let him have an excellent education which made him top of class and later he pursued a successful career in Gallifreyan management. Happy ever after. Thank you very much and goodbye.”

He spit the last sentence out like a curse. Then, he turned on his heels and started towards the door.

“_______ stop. You know that this is not true and so do I!”

The voice of that woman had grown much stronger than before. She had laid all the strength and authority she still had into it. The first word was a Gallifreyan name. Like every Gallifreyan name it was a special set of frequencies, distinctive and unique. Somewhere deep inside it hit a memory. Far, far back. At the very beginning of his long time stream. He turned around and for the first time his eyes met the eyes of his mother.

“That’s right, _______, this is your name… your real name. Of course, you don’t recall it and no one outside this room has ever heard it. To protect you, you had to be the boy without a name and I’m sure they gave you a new one on Gallifrey. But _______ is the name your father and I have chosen.”

His hearts clenched. His name. His real name. Even the tomb on Trenzalore worked with a wrong name. He always knew it. Deep down in his hearts he always knew that he had a different name. Because the name was engraved in his hearts from the first time his mother had whispered it to him when he was just born. It had always been there, protected from the outside world.

“I’m sorry. I’m really, truly sorry that you ended up in an asylum where they didn’t take good care of you, _______!”

How could she know? She wasn’t there. And if she knew, why hadn’t she done anything to protect him?

“How do you know? You were not there.”

His voice was calm but filled with the cold anger and hate he had bottled up inside him for centuries.

“I didn’t know for a long time. There wasn’t a day I was not thinking about you, but to protect your life we had to stay as far away as possible and couldn’t risk contacting the zookeeper or anyone who could know where you ended up.”

She looked at him, her eyes pleading for him to understand. He looked into her eyes and he refused it without words. He was sure he would have found a way. If someone was important to him, he always found a way. He hadn’t been important enough for them to try and find a way. 

His mother sighed when she saw he still refused to forgive her. She continued:

“It was years later when she suddenly appeared.”

His mother pointed towards Clara who looked shocked.

“Me?”

“At least the woman looked like you. You said you were working as a carer in an asylum and that there was a desperate small boy, aged seven.”

“I never worked as a carer. I’m a teacher. And I never was on Gallifrey.”

His mother looked confused.

“But… Anyway, you told me that there was this seven-year-old boy. Very bright, very thoughtful, very curious, asking good questions. But also, that he had difficulties to adapt to the system and the rules of the asylum. And that he was constantly harassed by the other kids and punished by the director and the educators. You said the boy was sad and lonely. That he was so desperate you feared he could eventually harm himself.

You told me that you knew the boy was my son, although I have no idea how you could have found out when even the Time Lords couldn’t.”

The carer. The carer who gave him the picture. The only carer who was different, who didn’t beat and humiliate him, the one who was on his side and always tried to protect him.

“I think it was one of your echoes, Clara,” he said in a low voice. She looked at him surprised, before she nodded her understanding.

“An echo?” His mother asked confused.

“It’s… it’s complicated… I once had to jump into his time stream to help him.” Clara made it sound as if it had been something simple like handing someone a tool.

“There are splinters of her across the universe all along my time stream who are just there to protect me, often killing themselves in the process.” He clarified solemnly.

The Tinkerer and his wife both looked surprised.

“Well, that would at least explain why she found out – she didn’t need to, she knew the Doctor was in trouble and she had to save him,” the Tinkerer mused.

“I don’t know why, but I immediately trusted that woman. I was devasted to hear what had happened and in which terrible place my son had ended up.”

His mother’s eyes filled with tears.

“I told her the whole sad story and begged her to tell me if there was a way to get you out of this place.

She told me that she would try to get you into a project where kids were sent off to the countryside, helping farmers with the farm work. She said it was intended as a punishment because the Time Lords saw physical labor as inferior, a way to put someone down. But that she knew the farmers were nice people. She suspected that the boy would be much happier in their care and that she could convince the director that it was a just punishment for his reluctance to adapt.

But she also said getting him there would still take some time and the boy was so desperate she feared the worst. She said he didn’t believe somebody loved him because even his own parents didn’t want him. That’s why she contacted me to hear why we sent him to the asylum.

Now that she knew we pondered what we could do. She couldn’t tell him the true story because they… Oh my God…” the tears started to fall and she sobbed, “_______, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

She couldn’t speak for some time until she got her voice under control again.

“She said that the educators and carers forced the kids to open their minds for them to find out what they were thinking and punished them for their thoughts. And if you knew your story, they would find out who you are and kill you.”

He was back in the asylum.

He was queuing again before the dormitory. The carer put his hands on the head of each of the boys before they were allowed to go to bed, forcing them to expose their thoughts.

It was his turn again.

He tried again to shield his brain.

But the carer cracked the mental barriers open and read the thoughts with force.

They would always find something that justified punishment.

Sometimes it was easy, just a few whips and he could go off to bed. But sometimes they found the thoughts were worse enough to jail him in the cellar or, worse, in what they called the “reform box”.

The darkness.

Not being able to stretch his feet.

Not knowing when they would come back.

Not hearing a single sound.

He began to sweat.

He trembled.

He felt a scream building in his throat.

He needed to scream to make sure he was still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's my take on the Doctor's real name. And as well on the barn we know from "The Time of The Doctor", "Listen" and "Hell Bent".
> 
> As always, kudos and comments much appreciated. You keep me writing. :)


	13. Chapter 13

The darkness swallowed him.

There was no escape.

He was in here alone.

The silence strangled him.

He had to make sure he was still alive.

He heard his own scream.

It seemed strangely distant.

As if it wasn’t himself screaming.

At least it was a noise in the silence and the darkness.

Suddenly he felt something resting firmly on his shoulders and heard a calm, soft voice speaking to him.

“Hey, Doctor, hey, look at me. It’s not real, it’s a flashback. Just a flashback. You are here with me. Try to see me. This place is safe. You are free and you can walk out anytime you want. Try to see me. You are safe.”

The scene changed. Suddenly he was standing in the bedroom inside the foreign TARDIS again. Clara stood before him. She applied reassuring pressure on his shoulders and talked him back to reality.

“It’s okay, Doctor. See? It’s okay. This place is safe. You are safe. Everything is alright.”

Right. This wasn’t the asylum. This was the place where his parents lived. He had just learned how he ended up in the asylum. He was not sure if it was better to know it.

He looked down and into the brown eyes of his small human companion. He nodded to indicate he was aware of his surroundings again. He was thankful that she knew what to do when a flashback hit him. One day he really should tell her how much it meant to him that she stayed by his side despite all his shortcomings. Maybe he would find the courage to do so sometime in the future.

He concentrated on his breathing and details of the room around him. He looked to the bed where his father and his mother looked at him, concerned. How embarrassing. This was the second time they had seen him weak. It was shameful that they saw what a broken man he had become.

Usually he did everything to conceal this fact. Only very few companions had come so close to him that he had allowed them to see it. Rose, of course, had known it and had loved him anyway. So did Martha, who had been too smart and too professional not to know it after just a few trips. And Clara. Of course.

Other than Rose and Martha her understanding was different. She knew flashbacks and how to handle them from her time with Danny. But there was more to it. She was just as reckless as himself. In many regards, despite their differences, they were very much alike. And perhaps because she was a little twisted and bent herself, she knew how to handle a broken man like him.

Just like right now. She knew he couldn’t take physical contact now so when she saw he was aware of where he was again, she let go of his shoulders. She simply stepped back to his side, avoiding touching him.

His mother was still in tears. And probably seeing the effect her decision had on him even centuries later didn’t make it better. She held out her arms, but he just shook his head. She sighed and continued the story.

“We were at a loss what we could do. First, I thought I could give you a teddy bear I knitted for you. But the carer said that she would be searched thoroughly before they would let her into the asylum. They would not allow any toys because the director believed they delayed the development of the intellectual abilities of the children.

I wanted to write a letter, but it sure would have been confiscated. And even if the carer would have been able to sneak it in – you would be thinking about it and so they probably would be able to discover it and trace it back to me.

We came up with the idea that she could take a picture of me and give it to you, telling you that I loved you very much without telling the story. We hoped that a picture of a random woman would not raise suspicion – the carer could say it was someone from her own family if questions arose. And we hoped it would be stealthy enough so even when you were thinking about the picture it would not allow the Time Lords to connect you to the Hybrid myth.”

Clara took the picture out of her pocket and handed it to the woman. She smiled at the piece of paper that was aged and crumpled from having been carried around through time and space. First in the pockets of a small, unruly boy without parents and later in the large pockets of a grown man who travelled the universe and fought back the monsters.

He had taken it out of his pocket a million times and wondered who that woman was and why she had abandoned him. In the picture she stood with her hands on her hips, smiling self-confident at the camera. And now, the same woman lay in a bed before him.

“We gave much thought to this picture.” His mother continued. “It would be the only gift I could give my son and it should convey all my love for him. First, we needed to choose a background that was featureless, so it couldn’t give away where it was taken. We settled for a grey wall that could be on every inhabited planet.

The picture should convey how I look upon you with love and pride, that’s why I chose this posture. And I chose a blue dress with a pink belt, so I combined the color of trust and wisdom with the color of care and unconditional love. It was meant to convey both, my trust in and my unconditional love for you, as well as my wish that you would grow up to be wise and caring. And I wore a necklace with a fox to convey my wish that you would always outsmart your enemies using your agility and wit, not brute force.”

He was thunderstruck.

He had never looked at the picture that way.

He had asked the wrong questions all along. He had been focused on the question who his mother was and why she had abandoned him instead of asking what she had tried to tell him, sending him the picture.

In two thousand years it had never occurred to him that she could have tried to do that. That the picture itself was full of hidden meanings and wishes. That it was never intended as a simple picture of his mother but that she had tried to tell him that she loved him and was proud of him.

He, who thought that he was so intelligent that he looked through all evil plans.

He, who thought that he was smarter than most creatures in the universe.

He, who was sure that he was free from prejudices.

He had missed the most important message his mother tried to send him.

He would give every alien race the benefit of doubt and only strike against them if they really proved their evil intentions.

He would show mercy even against his worse enemies.

He was keen on telling everybody that sometimes there were only bad choices and you still had to choose.

But he had never granted his parents the same privilege.

He looked at his mother who lay in the bed and looked upon him with pleading eyes.

He felt guilty.

And stupid.

And flawed.

He made a step towards his mother.

She reached out her arms once more.

He dropped on one knee before the bed.

“I… I’m sorry… I never understood what you tried to tell me.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t know how I could get the message to you. Sorry you didn’t get it. And I’m so sorry all of this happened.”

“Don’t be, it was my fault,” he uttered.

“It never was your fault, ______, never think this way, it never was,” she whispered.

He wrapped his arms around the small frame of his mother, and she wrapped her weak arms around him.

He let his head rest against her shoulder, and she stroked his hair.

He hadn’t realized it at first, but he cried. He couldn’t recall when this happened the last time. But now he was sobbing defenselessly.

It were the tears of a small, abandoned, humiliated boy.

It were the tears of a grown man who had failed.

And it were the tears of a son who had finally found his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Note:** Clara knows how to handle the flashbacks of her Doctor. In real life someone experiencing a flashback might not react well to a touch. In fact it can make matters worse, especially (but not limited to) people who have experienced abuse might confuse you with their attacker. If you recognize it is a flashback and are in the position of being a person they trust, using your voice to help the person understand that what they experiencing isn't really happening right now, that it happened in the past might help.


	14. Chapter 14

Mother and son embraced each other tightly and after a short while the Tinkerer wrapped his large arms around both and rested his head on the head of his wife.

For some time, the sobs of the younger Time Lord were the only sound in the room. They died down gradually as his mother continued stroking his hair and his father’s hand rested firmly on his shoulder.

The Tinkerer looked up and found Clara’s eyes. He reached out one arm indicating she should join the group hug. She smiled and slowly shook her head. As much as she liked hugging, it felt wrong to her to disturb the intimate moment. She felt like the new girlfriend of a divorced man at a family reunion.

After a while the Doctor broke the embrace and took a handkerchief out of his pockets to clean his nose and his face. He stayed hunched by the side of the bed. His mother caressed his face tenderly. Then she looked over to Clara, smiling slightly.

“Is she your wife?” She asked him softly, nodding into her direction.

“No.”

His voice was still hoarse from crying. It hurt. Although she had told herself a million times that he was already married to River and that loving him was like flirting with a mountain range, that he never would be able to love her back, it hurt, nevertheless.

“I’m his carer. More or less always have been, always will be.” She said with a sigh and a sad smile.

Penelope looked at her with surprise.

“Sorry, I assumed, because I saw how you both interacted and how you knew what to do when he broke down…”

The Doctor got up. Not taking his eyes off his mother he reached his hand behind him. It reminded her of the way she had reached behind her when she was facing the Half-Face Man shortly after the Doctor had regenerated, hoping he would be there to have her back. She took the few steps forward and grabbed his hand.

“No.”

He closed his hand around hers and pulled her to his side. He spoke hoarsely and slowly, obviously searching for the right words. He was looking around the room in an attempt to avoid meeting anybody’s eyes.

“She’s… she’s not my wife. And she’s not just my carer, although I know she cares a great deal for me. She sure is my friend and my companion, but she’s much more than that.”

He took a deep breath.

“Without her, I wouldn’t have come here. Without her I wouldn’t even have tried to find my parents. Without her I would have been dead at least one hundred times. Not because she saves me from my enemies… this she does, too… but, much more important, because she saves me from myself.”

He let go of her hand to wrap his arm gently around her shoulder as he continued:

“And although you are my parents and I wouldn’t be here without you, there is no other person in this universe more important to me than Clara Oswald.”

She felt her heart race, her knees wobble, and her tears welling up. She couldn’t believe what she just heard. Until now she hadn’t been sure how he was feeling about her. And she had never anticipated how deep his feelings really were.

She had to squeeze her eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling. He probably couldn’t deal with that kind of emotional outbreak. He couldn’t understand how she could smile when she was sad. How to explain that she cried when she was happy?

When she opened her eyes again, she saw the Doctor’s mother smile tenderly at her.

“I knew it,” she whispered. She coughed and continued louder:

“I’m glad you are by his side. My biggest fear was always that my son would be lonely. Time Lords are not good at being alone. They turn cold and cruel if they have no one to care for.”

She smiled up at her husband and patted his hand.

“Now, dear, how about some tea and snacks? Maybe our son can help you in the kitchen?”

The Tinkerer gave her a surprised look.

“So the ladies can have a talk about topics that bore you anyway?”

She emphasized, apparently accustomed to the Time Lord’s limited ability to grasp the obvious. He nodded obediently. He got up and pulled at the Doctor’s sleeve who let go of Clara's shoulder reluctantly. The Tinkerer left for the kitchen and the Doctor trudged after him.

When they left, Penelope smiled after them, then looked her in the eyes.

“Come a bit closer, dear, my eyes are not that good anymore and I like to see you.”

Clara obeyed and knelt beside the bed. The older woman reached up and cupped her cheek.

“Now it’s okay to cry, dear. I understand. He has never told you, right? He has never told you how he feels about you until now?”

She felt the tears welling up again. This time she made no effort to hold them back. She sniffled and shook her head. Penelope stroked her cheek with her thumb.

“Clara, you have to understand that the Time Lord society abhors emotions. From a very early age they do everything that their children learn to suppress them. More, they educate them in a way they become outright scared of their own emotions. That’s why they take the children to the Academy or the Army at such a young age. And for ______, I think it’s even worse, they already started to ‘educate’ him in the asylum.”

“Yes. Yes, I think that’s the case,” she agreed. She couldn’t even imagine what damage that must have done to a young soul.

“Only a few can resist the system. Most close their hearts off forever. They become cold and cruel, stabilizing the heartless society of Gallifrey. But those who refuse to be broken by the system, like my husband and his best friend, or like your Doctor, they are able to feel the deepest emotions. It’s only that it is extremely difficult for them to express them.

My husband told me that there even isn’t the term ‘love’ in High Gallifreyan. That there are slang words in the dialects of the countryside, but not in the language spoken by the Time Lords. So, even when they know how they feel about someone and want to say it, they are missing the words in their native tongue.”

She couldn’t imagine a crueler thing than to erase an emotion from the language. She sobbed at the thought. If it was at all possible, she hated the Gallifreyan society even more now that she knew that. The Doctor’s mother stroked her hair.

“Shhh… it’s alright. I just try to tell you that what he said a few minutes ago was maybe the closest thing to a love confession you will ever hear from him, Clara. He might use words he has in his language to express his feelings and they might sound distant to you. He might say that he has a ‘duty of care’ towards you. My husband uses it a lot. He says for him it’s the closest to his feelings that he still has words for in his own language.”

There was a long moment of silence between them. She thought about all the times the Doctor had used that phrase and she had reacted annoyed to it. But how could she have known? Penelope gave her a knowing smile.

“I know. It took me some time to figure it out, too. That’s why I tell you now. Because I know you love him. I knew it the very moment I saw you standing with him in the door frame, deciding to stay by his side instead of going to greet me. I saw that in the conflict between social conventions and supporting him, your decision was in favor of his wellbeing.”

Of course. That was what she would always do, no matter if he loved her or not. She would always care and support her grey-haired stick-insect of a Time Lord. She smiled slightly. The old woman smiled back.

“And he loves you, too. I can see it in the way he completely trusts you and relies on you. I see it in the way he looks at you. I think he would destroy the universe just to save you. Maybe that’s why the Time Lords are so afraid of emotions and why they invented the Hybrid myth.

Time Lords have two hearts and so I think their emotions are much stronger. I saw it when his best friend and his family were killed. I think the hate he had towards the assassins was just as strong as the hate of a Dalek, if not stronger. And I think it’s the same with love.”

It opened up a whole new way of looking at her Doctor. She had always assumed that Time Lords were different, that they felt different. But she thought that they were less capable of feeling emotions and therefore were oblivious to most of them.

Well, she knew that her Time Lord was afraid of some things and that emotional stuff could outright scare him. But she had always suspected that most of it stemmed from not understanding what goes on and how to handle the situations. It never occurred to her that it could be the opposite.

“It never occurred to me that he was feeling too much. I always assumed he was feeling less,” she uttered.

Penelope nodded.

“I know, this is what it looks like from the outside. But the truth is that they are feeling much more. But they were raised to believe they are not allowed to feel it. Not to mention to express their feelings.”

“I think it’s hard to break through that wall,” Clara mumbled.

“I think you are already more than halfway through,” smiled the Doctor’s mother, stroking her cheek once again.


	15. Chapter 15

His father set up a kettle with water for the tea. There was an uncomfortable silence between them. What do you talk about when you are together with your father who you don’t know at all? Especially after you broke down and became a helpless, sobbing bulk of despair in the lap of your mother shortly before. Not talking seemed to be an acceptable way to go.

His father pointed to a loaf of bread and a knife and the Doctor started cutting down slices. Hi father set butter, homemade jam and cream cheese on a tray. While they waited for the water to boil the silence became unbearable for the Doctor. Especially as there was one thing bothering him.

“How old is she?” He finally asked.

“Your mother?”

The Doctor nodded.

“Well, you know it’s hard to tell when you are time travelling. But it must be 85 or 86 Earth years now.”

“But… she looks so young. She looks like she looked in the picture, no change. Shouldn’t she be white-haired and wrinkled and all?”

His father looked at him surprised. He scratched his head under the unruly ginger hair.

“How old are you, son?”

That was a good question. He lost count a long time ago. Especially since Trenzalore. How long had he been there? 300 years? 700? 900? He could hear the screams and smell the smell of burnt flesh and wood. He winced and bit his thumb to snap himself back to reality.

“I… I lost count, but I estimate it’s about 2,000 years,” he answered.

His father nodded slowly.

“And did you ever notice a change in your companion’s general appearance? Did they grow older? Did their hair turn grey? Did you see lines deepening around their eyes or their mouths?”

He thought back to his companions and his hearts clenched. There were so many he lost.

“No…” he slowly said, “I figure they didn’t stay… or survive… long enough for me to notice.”

The grief was nearly unbearable. He closed his eyes. He saw their faces again. Adric. Amy. Rory.

“No.”

He felt his father laying his big, strong hand on his shoulder.

“No, that’s not it. Has no one in your long life ever told you that Time Lords see different?”

What did he mean? His father took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. His green eyes glistered suspiciously as he squeezed his shoulder lightly.

“If you have not allowed the Time Lords to crush you completely. If you kept your hearts save from their attempts to shut down your emotions. If you are still the man you were born as, not the man they tried to make of you… Then you will always see with your hearts.

You will see them with all the deep emotions you have for them. The humans have a beautiful word for it, it’s ‘love’. It’s a great term, as it encompasses a whole range of emotions, from the protective and tender feelings you have towards a little child, to those towards a close friend or a companion to the things you feel if you meet someone you want to share everything with until one of you dies.

You see them with the love you have for them. And so, they will never look any different to you than the first time you saw them.”

No, he hadn’t known that. And until now he had never thought about it.

The Tinkerer let his hand down and started to prepare some porridge.

“See, I know your mother has special needs now that she’s older. She has difficulties with chewing and swallowing food, so I cook according to it. But if I look at her, she looks exactly like the woman I met on the building site of Ballochmyle Viaduct.”

The silence fell between them again. He wondered if it was the same with Clara. Did he still see the woman who called the computer hotline when he looked at her?

Suddenly his father giggled and looked at him.

“Is Clara ever cross with you because you didn’t notice a new haircut and fail to compliment her on it?”

He thought of several such occasions and felt a smile creeping to the corners of his mouth.

“Oh yes, it happens all the time.”

“See, so your hearts are still intact. She will never look any different to you. Can be annoying for a human. You might consider just complimenting her from time to time although she didn’t do anything special with her hair. She looks always beautiful to you, doesn’t she?”

He looked to his feet and nodded.

“So, it’s not a lie if you say she does.”

His father concluded.

Well, it was not that simple. Maybe he should talk to his father about it? The only one he usually shared his troubles with was Clara. But of course, he couldn’t share certain difficulties with her. His father had just told him something very important. Maybe the older man could advise him on other things, too.

“I… I don’t know. This incarnation is clumsy with words. I think if I tell her she’s beautiful she could take it wrong.”

His father looked at him surprised.

“How could she take that wrong? Wait… does she know how you feel about her?”

His personal interest in his shoes deepened.

“I… I think so.”

“Oh no, don’t tell me that you never told her that you ____________ __________ .”

His father used two words in the thick dialect of the Northern Gallifreyan countryside, meaning that one is willing to share one’s life until death with them.

He shook his head.

“No, and I don’t think that’s a good idea…. Me and Clara… I… I think… I think it would be better…”

He sighed. It was so damn difficult to find words for the way he felt. Maybe it was better if his hands had something to do, so he could focus on something else while gathering the words. He started to make sandwiches with the sliced bread and the spreads. It calmed his nerves. He tried again.

“I think me and Clara, we should stay at arm’s length. I think it’s not good if we… we… become something.”

His father looked at him with an odd expression. Concern? Amusement? Sadness?

“Why do you think so, son?”

“My life is dangerous. I bring her into difficult and potentially lethal situations. It is almost never safe. She will be killed sooner or later if she stays with me.”

“Do you think that this is what she wants to be, safe?”

“That’s kind of the point. I’m not sure. It worked better when…”

He took a deep breath before he could spit out the name of the man he had envied and never treated with the respect he deserved, the one who had loved Clara and sacrificed his life to make amends, anyway…

“…Danny was still alive. She had a safe place on Earth to come back to. Something to look forward to when I brought her back. But since he’s dead, she became more and more reckless. I don’t think that’s good. And it can only get worse if it’s not just Wednesdays. If she would be with me all the time.”

“But you would like to have her by your side all the time?”

His hearts clenched. Oh yes, yes, this is what he wanted. He hated to be alone in his TARDIS. Sometimes he just skipped forward to the next Wednesday to be together with her again. He wanted her closer. But he knew how selfish that was.

He sighed and nodded.

“Well, then… do you respect her?”

What an odd question. Of course, he did.

“Of course, I do. I trust her with my life. She’s the most important person in my life.”

“That was not the question. The question is: Do you respect her? Do you respect that she’s a full-grown human, an independent woman well capable of deciding what she wants to do? Not some silly, small pudding brain with a limited intellectual capacity who is not fully capable of seeing the consequences of her decisions?”

He was taken aback. It was a good question. He remembered how she had thrown him out of her life because of his patronizing behavior on the Moon. He remembered all the occasions where she had lectured him on how she was well aware of her actions when he stated he had a duty of care towards her. He tried. He tried hard not to let his concern for her wellbeing push him into being patronizing again. However, he was not entirely certain it wasn’t just because of his fear that she would leave him for good. But he wanted to respect her, and he tried.

“Yes, I do. At least I try to.”

“Well, then. If you respect her, don’t you think that she is well capable of deciding if she wants to share her life with you? That it is not your decision to make? That she is well aware how dangerous it is and that for her being together with you might be more important than having a long life?”

Maybe he was right.

“But of course, there is still that thing you have to do first, right?”

His father smiled broadly, the smile reaching up to his impressive sideburns.

“What?”

“Well, you have to ask her if she’s willing to do that. To stay with you.”

He wished that there were still slices of bread left to make more sandwiches to calm his nerves. But he had already used up all the material, an impressive pile of sandwiches filling two plates. He didn’t know what to say, so he settled for an undecided grunt.

“You haven’t told her that you ____________ __________, so she doesn’t know that you are willing to. And perhaps that’s much more difficult than running around saving planets and fighting monsters, right?”

He sighed.

“How do you know?”

“Because for me it’s also much easier to build bridges and tunnels than to say I love you – I like the human term, although it is not as all-encompassing as ____________ __________. And when I look at you, I see the same limitations I had when I was younger. There is no denying that you are my son, you are a chip of the old block, you really are.”

He saw the tender look of his father resting on him. He felt caught and encouraged at the same time.

“Now, before you will try to make sandwiches out of the kitchen furniture because you don’t like to talk about your feelings – how about if we go back in and look if our ladies are finished with their own straight talk?”

Relieved he nodded his agreement. He took the tray with the sandwiches, the tea pot and the cups, while his father carried the soup plate with porridge.

Back in the bedroom the two women were chatting and giggling. Clara had taken a seat on the chaise long. He put the tray down on a small table next to it.

He poured tea and brought two cups to the bedside table, along with a plate of sandwiches. His mother smiled at him and he smiled back.

His father helped her to sit up straighter, before he placed a small table in front of her and put the porridge on it. Then his father took his place beside his mother on the bed.

Clara offered him the seat next to the backrest of the chaise long. He grabbed a jam sandwich and sat down.

“I was telling your mum the story how we met Robin Hood.”

Clara said. He winced. Not his favorite story.

“Did you really fight him with a spoon or is Clara making this up?”

His mother wanted to know. He had to grin and pulled his spoon out of his pocket, waving it at his mother.

“I tell you: He, who has a spoon has nothing to fear in this whole universe!”

His mother giggled and raised her own spoon from the porridge.

“Don’t dare challenging me, son, I fought more spoon fights in canteens than any other person alive!”

They all broke out laughing.

They spent the rest of the evening eating, drinking, sharing stories and laughing.

It became late and his mother had rested her head on the chest of his father once again. After a while she fell asleep in his arms and he placed a kiss on her head.

He felt Clara was leaning heavy on his arm. When he looked down, he realized that she looked tired. She tried hard not to fall asleep, but it had been a long day.

He figured her position was not comfortable. He stretched out his arm so she could rest her head against his chest, mimicking the position of his parents on their bed. Clara sighed and snuggled into him. It felt not as strange as he had expected. It felt pretty good, actually. He was shortly tempted to kiss her head, too, but decided against it.

They continued sharing stories and after a while he felt Clara’s body slackening and her deep breaths told him she had fallen asleep. He smiled down at the small, roundish, clever human being that meant everything to him.

When he looked up, he saw his father smiling tenderly at both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we finally know why the Doctor always misses out on those little details... and why River knows he can't possibly have an idea whether she looked amazing or not at the end of the "Husbands of River Song".


	16. Chapter 16

Clara woke up and found that her head was resting on the Doctor’s chest. He was sound asleep, and his arm was wrapped tightly around her, making sure she stayed as close as possible to him. As if I was a big teddy bear, she thought, smiling.

She looked over to the bed and saw that the Tinkerer was kneeling beside it, a candle burning on each bedside table. Penelope laid stretched out, hands folded over her chest. Her eyes were closed. She looked very pale and very peaceful. It took Clara a minute to understand that she was dead.

Slowly Clara released herself from the Doctor’s grip and got up carefully, hoping she didn’t disturb his sleep. She walked over to the bed and let her hand rest on the shoulder of the Tinkerer. He looked up, his eyes red with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The Tinkerer got up, slowly, as if a heavy weight was pressing him down. He wiped a tear from his eye as he looked at her. She opened her arms and hugged the grieving Time Lord.

“I’m so sorry,” she said again.

“Don’t be, it’s okay, Clara Oswald,” he said, his voice hoarse and low. “Her time was up.”

Behind them, the Doctor had gotten up and stood by the bedside. He slowly got down on his knees and softly stroked his mother’s cheek.

For a long while nobody spoke, no one wanted to disturb the intimate moment.

Finally, the Tinkerer stepped behind his son and laid his hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Her times was up, son.”

He said softly.

“She died peacefully and happy in her sleep. I think that you both came…” He stretched out his right arm to Clara. She stepped closer and the Tinkerer wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“…I think that you both came was the greatest gift you could give her. To see her son, alive and well…”

His voice broke as he squeezed the Doctor’s shoulder tight. She reached her arm around the Tinkerer’s waist in a comforting gesture. There was a long silence.

Then, the Doctor got up, turning to his father. They looked at each other, green meeting grey-blue, both red rimmed. The Doctor reached out his hand, the Tinkerer took it, but instead of a handshake, he pulled his son into a tight embrace. Then, the Tinkerer reached out once more and pulled Clara into a group hug. This time, it seemed right to her.

After a while the Tinkerer let go and looked into his son’s eyes once more.

“We talked about it… Penelope and I… we had time to talk about it, the last few weeks. She knew what she wanted. When she was still able to walk, we found… we have found… on our last walk together she said, she… she indicated the place she wants… the place where she wants to rest forever.”

The Tinkerer took a deep breath.

“It’s already prepared. And she said she wanted the ceremony I did for my best friend… although back then there was no… no body left…”

His voice broke again, and it took some time until he got his composure back. He took another deep breath and continued:

“She wants a traditional Gallifreyan field funeral. I thought I’d have to do it alone. But now, that you are here… Would you do the Guardian part?”

The Doctor nodded.

The Tinkerer stepped to the left side of the bed, while the Doctor went to the right side. Both bowed their heads and rested in silence for a while. The TARDIS played a somber tune.

Finally, the Doctor began:

“What brought you to the Gates of Death?

Where darkness roams, no light is seen?”

His father responded:

“A good soul fell; a light went out.”

“Who is it, who brings her here?”

Here, the Tinkerer gulped, before he spoke the words the tradition had set up for him as the husband.

“I’m her carer, the protector of her heart, her sword and shield.”

“Well, then, you say: a good soul?”

“A good soul in every way. A brave warrior. A good advisor. A carer for her friends. A nurturer for her family.”

“The good souls may pass unhindered.

But those not truthful shall be torn.

Pass the Gates of Death;

Respect the names of those who fell.”

Then, both men blew out the candle on their side of the bed. They bowed their heads again to Penelope.

The Tinkerer took a large white sheet that sat beside the bed. It had leather straps on one side and buckles on the other. It was embroidered with red and black Gallifreyan signs.

The men unfolded it and spread it next to Penelope. Then, the Tinkerer reached for her shoulders and the Doctor took her by the hips. They looked each other in the eyes and when the Tinkerer gave a slight nod, they lifted her up and positioned her on the sheet.

The Tinkerer bowed down and gave his wife a last kiss. Then he stepped back.

The Doctor stepped forward and kissed his mother on the forehead. Then he turned to face Clara.

She was insecure what she should do. What was the correct way to say goodbye to the Doctor’s mother who she only encountered yesterday? She didn’t know anything about Gallifreyan traditions and what was expected from her.

But then, she figured, it didn’t matter. This was the Doctor’s mother and as such, she would treat her as if it was her own mother. She stepped forward, rested her right hand on Penelope’s hands and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you. Thank you for everything you did and everything you were.” She whispered.

When she turned around, her eyes met the eyes of the Doctor. He gave her an ever so slight smile that nearly ripped her heart apart.

Both men stepped forward again and began to close the buckles on the sheet, creating a bag. Then they rested the bag on a small stretcher the Tinkerer had set nearby.

No one broke the silence as all three took their coats and prepared for going outside. The TARDIS hummed her goodbye as the men lifted the stretcher and slowly approached the door. Then she began to play a slow and solemn melody.

As they stepped outside, a choir started to sing, accompanying the funeral march of three with a soulful song. The sky was heavy with clouds, but it had stopped raining.

As they marched on, the Tinkerer’s TARDIS started to ring the cloister bell. After two strokes, the Doctor’s TARDIS cloister bell chimed in, a minor third above the Tinkerer’s tone. Their slow, alternating chimes gave Clara goosebumps.

They walked until they got to the top of the cliff near the home of the Tinkerer. There was a grave prepared, protected from the rain by a large canvas. The view from the cliff was spectacular, the whole sea stretched below their feet. In the distance, there was the outline of another island in the fog.

The cloister bells stopped chiming. The Tinkerer and the Doctor carefully set down the stretcher and removed the canvas from the grave. They opened two buckles on the bag that carried Penelope’s body. The buckles had held long leather belts. The Tinkerer took both belts on the left side, the Doctor those on the right. They stepped on either side of the grave and slowly lowered the body. Clara remained at the front, folding her hands and bowing her head.

After the body rested securely in the grave, the Tinkerer and the Doctor bowed their heads and kept a few minutes of silence.

Then, the Doctor spoke in a somber tone:

“What brought you to the Gates of Light?

Where we will weigh the souls?”

The Tinkerer answered:

“A good soul passed the Gates of Death;

I bring her here to guide her way.”

“Who is it, who brings her here?”

“I’m just the soul that guides her soul.

Whatever I have been.

I’m not here to hold her back.

I’m here to let her go.

She lived her life.

I was a part.

She is now here to see the light.”

“You may well pass,

go on your way.

But ‘til we meet again:

May goodness be your chosen path;

May wisdom guide your hands.”

Together they spoke the last part:

“A journey’s end is not the end;

No night forever lasts.

In deep despair, we see the light.

The light will guide our way.”

The cloister bells chimed again, this time in unison. Twelve strokes.

Suddenly the clouds parted, and the sun came out, as if someone had listened and understood the last words of the ceremony.

The Tinkerer went to Clara’s left side, the Doctor to her right. For a while the three just stood there in silence, looking out to the sea, watching the light glittering on the waves, thinking about life, death and the passing of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know firsthand how important rituals are for dealing with grief. I figure if the Doctor would have had the chance to grieve for Clara after "Face the Raven" instead of being transported to a personal torture chamber that let him experience the direct aftermath of the loss over and over again, we would have seen a completely different version of "Hell Bent". But we would have missed "Heaven Sent", which is my favorite episode of all time, so...
> 
> However, I thought I can give him a proper way to say goodbye to his mother with a Gallifreyan ceremony. Even if it is just the simple version, developed for warriors in the field. I think he would have preferred it to the more pompous full ceremony, anyway.
> 
> Penelope wished for [Home I'll be](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfXdn50REoM) performed by the BYU choir to be played when they took her to her grave.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, yes, this is STILL not the final chapter. Because: reasons!

The Tinkerer and the Doctor had filled up the grave and placed a wooden board with Penelope’s name in Gallifreyan on it. The Tinkerer would replace it with a headstone once everything had settled. Now they sat in the Tinkerer’s kitchen, drinking tea and eating the sandwiches that were left over from the previous evening.

“I’m surprised that there are even funeral rites, given that the Time Lord society is so abhorred by emotions.” Clara said.

“It’s not that easy, Clara Oswald,” the Tinkerer said.

“For you human beings, death is a rather common experience. In the course of a lifetime you will at least see your grandparents die, later your parents until it finally is your time to go. You are fragile and there are accidents and illnesses, so you will also experience sudden deaths by people you deem too young to die.”

The Doctor flinched. He didn’t like to be reminded of how short, fragile and dangerous a human life was. 

“For Time Lords, it is usually a very rare occurrence throughout a lifetime. My son’s life is not a very common one,” his father smiled at him, “neither is mine. So even regenerations are rare, real deaths extraordinary. Because death is so uncommon to Time Lords, the death of a relative or friend will hit them a lot harder. And no matter how effective the stiff conventions and rules try to suppress emotions; nothing changes that a Time Lord doesn’t like endings and there needs to be a ritual to make it easier. Although you might have noticed that there are next to no personal notes about the personality of the deceased involved, trying to keep emotions to a minimum.”

The Doctor stood up to look out of the window. He wished his father would change the topic.

“The usual Time Lord funeral is a rather pompous ceremony taking place after a long death watch. The one we did is much simpler; it is the ceremony for soldiers who fell in combat. The few sentences are easy to memorize, and they are embroidered on the scarf that belongs to each uniform, so they are readily available, no matter where the funeral takes place.”

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He had done this ceremony more often than he could count during the time war. He could say the words in his sleep. And indeed, he often did, during his nightmares. He silently turned and left the kitchen.

Outside it was pouring and there was a strong wind from the sea. Good. He turned up his collar and started towards his mother’s grave.

He stood there for a while and let the wind bite his skin and the rain soak his head. It helped. He didn’t need to think when he could concentrate on the uncomfortable sensations.

“Doctor?”

A soft voice asked. He wondered how long the small creature in a raincoat that was obviously too big for her had already stood by his side.

“Bad memories?”

She knew him too well.

He nodded.

She cared for him and she was always there when he needed her. She stared down enemies, she fought monsters and sometimes, like right now, she just went through the pouring rain and biting wind to…

“I thought you could use this.”

She handed him a raincoat.

“Only if you don’t _want_ to get soaked on purpose, of course.”

She said with a small smirk.

She knew him far too well. He smiled back, hoping it was a warm smile that conveyed that he was grateful for it. For accepting that he needed to do weird things to calm his nerves more than for the raincoat. He put it on anyway.

He really needed to ask her.

But not now. He needed to gather enough courage, first.

He looked up to the sky and saw that it had ceased to rain. Oh well, maybe he could show her something nice, first. He was sure she would like it. He felt excitement tingling in his stomach.

“Come on, Clara, I want to show you something!”

He started pacing towards the end of the cliff. Clara followed him, as she always did.

The end of the cliff was a steep grassy plane and there they were. Hundreds of puffins populated the area. They nested in holes in the ground and caves in the cliff line. Parents were busy bringing fish for their offspring. There were some fights going on as well.

He turned around and saw Clara standing agape beside him.

“Oh my gosh, I never saw puffins with blue and lilac beaks!”

“They are very rare. They only nest on this island.”

Her excitement made him smile.

“How did you know?”

“You might remember I had some time off on the beach and talked to some seagulls.”

“The seagulls told you where to find the puffins?”

“Oh, well, I think for them it was more like recommending a good restaurant to me.”

Clara frowned, then grinned and slapped him playfully.

“Doctor!”

“What? It’s true!”

“You are impossible!”

Her smile told him she wasn’t cross with him.

They watched the puffins in silence for a while.

Puffins always came back to the same place to nest. And most of the time they mated with the same partner. He thought if this was a good starting point to ask her. But could he make that connection without getting it wrong?

He stepped a bit closer to her and looked into the brown eyes of the small human woman who was so important to him. He considered grabbing her shoulders but decided against it. It was hard enough to concentrate on his words, even without having to watch his body language and the right facial expression.

“Puffins are really interesting creatures. They only come to the shore for nesting and raising their young. Most of them do this with the same partner each season. They take turns in brooding and bringing food. The rest of the time, over half a year, they live out on the sea, independently and free.”

Great, now he had completely barred the way to make this an analogy for asking her to stay with him without her either believing he wanted to ask her if she wanted to have children with him or suggesting they should have more time without the other. 

He had never been good with all this emotional stuff, but this incarnation was really maddening stupid with it.

He saw she looked up to him in a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Did she read his mind? He sincerely hoped she didn’t.

“You are dripping!” She remarked.

Now he was completely confused.

“Dripping?”

“Yes. Your hair is completely wet, and you are literally dripping on me.”

Right. Now that she mentioned it, he saw that some drops of water hit her face as he looked down to her. At least she didn’t seem to be cross, just amused.

“Don’t you think it’s better to go back to your father and get you dry before you catch a cold?”

“I don’t catch a cold, Clara, I’m a Time Lord and as such…”

“Yes, I know, you have a superior Time Lord biology. I just have one word for you, superior Time Lord: Aranghaile!”

Oh right. The planet that changed seasons every half an hour. The one where he refused to wear a coat because he reasoned that he would have to take it off and on all the time. The one where he got soaking wet and then froze nearly stiff and Clara had to bring him back to the TARDIS to thaw him. And yes, it occurred to him that he might have caught a little cold back then. He flinched at the thought.

“Do I have to remind you of the fever and what you said in your delirium?”

He turned deep purple. He didn’t recall much, but what he recalled was embarrassing enough.

“Ah, well, some hot tea in the Tinkerer’s kitchen doesn’t sound too bad.”

He said quickly.

“Glad you agree,” Clara said giggling.

Then she linked her arm with his and started for the Tinkerer’s TARDIS.

He gave a short growl of protest, but just to save his face. Secretly he really liked it when she took care of him. But he was sure that this was something he would never ever tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the reasons I needed another chapter was that [puffins](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlantic_puffin) are cleary, utterly adorable creatures and next to penguins my favorite birds.  
I promise to give you the last chapter for Christmas! At least I'll try.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The final chapter to the story. Hope you enjoyed meeting the Doctor's parents.  
Thank you for all the comments and kudos along the way. :)

Of course, the Doctor didn’t admit it, but it was a relief to get out of the wet clothes. Now he wore one of his father’s woolen jumpers. It fitted loosely due to his father’s sturdier figure. He sat in silence, warming his hands on a hot cup of tea, listening to Clara and his father chatting with each other.

“What will you do now?” She asked the Tinkerer right now.

“Oh, well, I honestly don’t know,” he shrugged and stared in his cup, lost in thoughts.

After a while, Clara asked:

“I was wondering… what do you think Penelope would have wanted you to do?”

The Tinkerer looked at Clara and sipped on his tea. Suddenly a small smile crinkled his lips.

“Oh, well, I know exactly what she would have wanted me to do, what she would say right now.”

Clara smiled warmly at his father.

“What would that be?”

The Tinkerer sighed.

“She’d say: ‘What are you brooding over, old tramp?’”

The Tinkerer’s smile broadened as he put down his cup.

“And she’d add: ‘There are bridges to be built, mountains to be crossed, rivers to be tamed. Get up, off your arse, there’s a universe out there in dire need of an engineer!’”

Clara laid her hand on the Tinkerer’s.

“Then I think you know what you will do, right?”

The Tinkerer smiled at her.

“Yes… Yes, I think I know it. I think I will stay for a few days, tidying up, take a few strolls on the island, saying goodbye to the puffins and the otters and then I’ll trust my TARDIS to find a building site in need of a helping brain.”

His TARDIS gave an affirmative sound.

“And you? You two? What are you up to, now? What are you about to do?”

The Doctor looked over to Clara and their eyes met.

What were they about to do?

What was he about to do?

Take her back to her flat and skipping to next Wednesday because he couldn’t stand to be alone?

Or simply asking her if she would stay with him?

Would she be willing to?

Or would she like him to carry on being a friend on schedule?

A pastime for her Wednesdays while she carried on teaching little pudding brains the rest of the time?

Meeting some nice human guy, marrying him and having children, perhaps?

Saying goodbye to him forever so she could care for her family properly instead of running around with a dangerously stupid old man in a box?

He looked to his father who arched an eyebrow at him. He didn’t need telepathy to know what he wanted to say by this.

_Her decision. But your responsibility to ask._

He took a sip of tea.

“Oh, I’m sure there are some planets out there that need to be saved by the Doctor,” Clara said smiling at him.

He emptied his cup and stood up.

“Yes. And I think it’s time that we do that again, right? Saving planets?”

Clara stood up and went to his side. The Tinkerer got up, too.

“Well, I guess we both are not the ones really good at saying goodbye, right, son?”

His father said, his green eyes boring into him once again. He resisted the urge to look away and stood the gaze. He shook his head and stretched out his hand to shake his father’s hand. His father took it and pulled him into a bear hug.

“Safe travels, son,” his father said fondly, then he brought his mouth nearer to his ear, the sideburn scratching his cheek. “Just ask her, you bloody idiot, she might run away with the next best tinkerer, otherwise!” He whispered.

Then, the Tinkerer let go of him and turned to Clara. They embraced each other. It looked so simple and effortless. Putting the arms around another being needed far less body control than Venusian aikido. He wondered why this was so difficult to manage for this incarnation.

“Safe travels, Clara. Keep a good watch over my son. But if he doesn’t treat you well, I want you to know that there’s always a room in my TARDIS for you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for everything, Tinkerer. Take care!”

They waved goodbye and headed for the Doctor’s TARDIS.

It was a short stroll downhill and he was mulling over the right way to word his question all along. And he tried to decide if he should hug her before asking or afterwards. Or if maybe a hug was totally inappropriate in this case. They were approaching the TARDIS much too fast for his liking.

There they were.

He looked back and saw his father standing in front of his TARDIS on the cliff, waving at them. Clara waved back and he followed suit.

He had to ask her. If he didn’t do it now, he wasn’t sure if he would ever find the courage again.

“Doctor, what’s wrong? You didn’t say a single word the whole way down here?”

Clara asked. He looked into her eyes and sighed. Why did it have to be that difficult? Every pudding brain on this planet would be able to do this.

„I…”

Perhaps he should just say what he was thinking right now? Maybe his mind would be able to find the right words once he started to speak and just… did something.

“This is extremely difficult for me, so bear with me. I try to get this done properly.”

He said, gesticulating widely.

She looked at him in a mixture of amusement and confusion.

“Okay, so…”

He summoned all his willpower and courage and took a step forward.

She hugged him all the time, so it couldn’t be that difficult, right?

He stretched out his arms and wrapped them firmly around her body. He felt her arms closing the hug, her hands resting on his back. Her head fit perfectly under his chin. It felt as if she melted into him and he melted into her.

So far, it worked well, better than expected.

Now for the wording part.

A hug was a practical thing. At least he didn’t need to worry about his facial expression.

“Clara Oswald, I am an idiot. I don’t even know how you put up with me. I’m not good with all that emotional stuff. But, Clara…”

Heck, he really wished he had the talent of Bill Shakespeare or Jane Austen and could find proper words for what he felt and wanted to say.

“…I don’t like to go out saving planets without you. And it’s lonely in my TARDIS if you are not around. I am a Time Lord and I can’t change that. For my understanding of time you will die on me in just the wink of an eye, and that’s a terrible and frightening thought. But, Clara… do you think it would be in any way feasible for you to stay with me for that long?”

Now he would have liked to see her face, especially as he was sure she didn’t understand what he tried to ask her. He loosened his grip and looked down to find her looking up at him, her eyebrows wrinkled and a slight smirk in the corner of her mouth. Her eyes had that tendency to inflate again. Oh, he just hoped he hadn’t offended her somehow.

“Are you trying to ask me if I would be willing to spend the rest of my life with you?”

His hearts skipped a beat.

“Uhm, that sounds pretty harsh for my ears after all you taught me about being careful when talking to humans, but, yes… yes, that’s exactly what I tried to ask you.”

He sighed.

“Clara Oswald, would you like to waste the rest of your precious… and fragile… and short… human life running around with this madman in his blue box?”

Her smirk changed into a broad, beaming smile and now her eyes really inflated.

“I thought you’d never ask!”

He was confused. What was that supposed to mean? Yes? No? And if this was a no, what would he do then? Would Wednesdays be still okay for her?

“Is this a yes or a no? Because if it’s a no, I want you to know that I totally understand and respect that. I mean, I can still pick you up just on Wednesdays. Or on any other day if this is more convenient for you. I can even, I don’t know, change something, anything…”

“Oh, shut up, this was a yes.”

“A yes? Like in: yes, I want to stay with you?” He asked, just to be sure.

“Yes, of course I want to stay with you, you daft old man.”

He hugged her again, holding her as close as possible and squeezing her shoulders tightly.

It felt right.

He knew it was just a short moment in time. He knew it wouldn’t last. He knew that she would die on him in a blink of an eye and he knew that the loss would be unbearable. But right here and now, standing near the beach and looking out to the cliffs of a small forgotten island on a small forgotten planet, holding a small, roundish, clever, warm, soft, perfect human in his arms, he was the happiest man in the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this end gave you the same warm, fuzzy feeling it gave me when I wrote it. :)  
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of you!


	19. Chapter 19

Folks, I just got the best Christmas gift ever, even if it is the 15th of January already. [InsideTheTardis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsideTheTardis/pseuds/InsideTheTardis) did this beautiful drawing of Clara, the Doctor and the Tinkerer hugging as a gift to me.

I can imagine that they run into each other, the Tinkerer working on a construction project while the Doctor saves the planet it is built on. I can imagine the Tinkerer dropping by with his TARDIS (in whatever form it chooses to take on) when they are on Earth, just to say “hi”. I can even imagine Clara nudging the Doctor to visit his father more often.

However, whenever they meet, I think it will look exactly like this (look at their expressions, they are priceless!):


End file.
